After Dark
by B. M. Reed
Summary: In their Seventh Year, the Golden Trio must face their issues while the growing threat of the war looms ahead. And on top of it all, Hermione finds herself fascinated by a certain professor... while in the arms of Neville Longbottom.
1. Problems

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Please read this before reading the story, to clear up a few things. This story is going to be AU. It takes place in Hermione's seventh year of Hogwarts. Also, Dumbledore is alive, Slughorn is still the Potions professor, and Snape is, of course, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Enjoy!

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**Chapter One - _Problems_**

* * *

I had never thought much about the one year age gap between Harry, Ron, and me until recently. I'm sure that to some, one year means very little. However, it is proven that girls mature much faster than boys; and although Harry and Ron are very smart and clever in their own ways, it doesn't much amount to their maturity level. It also doesn't help that our interests have begun to differ to the point of argument – me, of course, with my books, and them with Quidditch, and, as of the past two years or so, and increasing interest in girls.

As awkward as this may be, I can't say I haven't been thinking about boys differently myself – because, in fact, I have since I was thirteen. But their interest in girls is much different than mine in boys – and I have more often than not picked up the drift of many of their conversations about them. I am not sure if it is normal to talk of girls as much as they tended to last year – and, quite frankly, the manner in which they spoke of them was rather distasteful. I am thankful, however, that I have never heard _my_ name in any of these discussions, and was hoping that this year would be the same. But when I arrived at the Burrow in early July, I received a surprise that knocked anything so trivial from my mind.

From the moment I arrived, I noticed a large change in both Harry and Ron. Harry was quiet and spoke only when spoken to; Ron, on the other hand, talked very much. He rambled most of the time, and I felt it was to fill up the abundance of silence Harry left hanging in the air. I won't deny that I didn't help contribute to this. Everything was so awkward; I didn't know what to do. However, I must admit it was almost comical to see and hear poor Ron make up for all of the silence by himself, but Harry knew as well as I that there was no longer anything to say. Everyone knew the truth about Harry's destiny, and I'm afraid that it had begun to weigh heavily on Harry's heart. While I could have said something, _anything_, to comfort him, no words could come. There were times when I almost did say something, but the words became lost in my mouth somehow, causing me to swallow them back down.

Needless to say, we all of us spent a lot of time alone at the Burrow that summer.

* * *

Once at school, I began a very demanding daily routine. Mainly it involved studying, of course. To this day, I still can't imagine why I spent so much time studying, as I have an excellent memory and I knew everything I studied. I would guess that studying was the only thing that helped me escape the hassles of life, which, up to that point, were actually not that bad. Once I began my seventh year, I noticed the lessons and homework that the professors gave us were harder than I had ever imagined. But if Harry and Ron were struggling, I never knew of it.

Because in fact, I had hoped that the start of the new school year would knock some sense into the both of them, but mainly Harry. However, I had hoped in vain. Harry had taken up a habit of staring out of the window in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron was hardly ever there at all. I felt as if our "trio" was slowly beginning to melt away, much like the snowflakes of the first snow. I tried several times on different occasions to engage Harry in a conversation, but he shrugged them off. If he absolutely had to speak, he responded with one or two worded answers. My heart ached for him horribly. Then, on October the first, I decided to give it one more shot.

After dinner that night, I found Harry sitting by the window, staring out of it as if he were expecting something, like he did every night. Everyone had gotten used to it by now, but I sat down next to him and was silent for some time, watching him.

As much as I would hate to say it on any other occasion, he had grown up, in more ways that I had ever noticed. His face was sharper, the angles were more pronounced. He had let his hair grow out over the summer, and while it did frame his face nicely, I couldn't help but think that he didn't grow it out just to change his look; it was more or less the fact that he didn't care how he looked. His eyes, as green as ever, had changed as well. They reflected a sadness I couldn't name, and I felt an intense emotion of sadness and hopelessness watching him.

"Harry…" I began. I had no idea what to say. Our almost icy silence toward each other wasn't something I knew how to mend. I wanted to reach out to him, to hug him, to do anything to let him know that I still cared for him, that I still loved him as the best friend I had ever had.

"Harry…" I said again, my voice wavering. He wouldn't even _look_ at me. "Please, Harry, just look at me for one moment."

He obliged, turning his face towards me. Our eyes met for one moment, and then he looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap.

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately Harry…but I just wanted to let you know that I…that I still care for you, no matter how much you choose to ignore me. We're in this together, aren't we? _Aren't_ we, Harry?"

I don't know what made me ask him that with such question in my voice. I _knew_ we were in this together; Harry, Ron, and me. But after asking the question, hearing the words come out of my mouth, I began to doubt myself. _Were_ we in this together?

Harry was silent for the longest time. I found myself almost dreading his response. I wanted him to nod, I wanted him to say, "Yeah, of course, 'Mione," and everything to be back to normal. I wanted Ron, Harry and I to start laughing again, to stay up until all hours of the night doing homework and scheming about nothing in particular. I missed our friendship; I missed Harry.

Just as I was about to give up hope, as I was about to turn and leave him alone, I heard him speak.

"Hermione…it's over. You can't deny it. Ron's still trying to. Dumbledore expects so much of me. I'm as good as dead. _It's over_."

"No! No, Harry. You _know_ that's not true!"

Harry said nothing. He turned his head to look out of the window again, his face bearing an emotion I had never seen on it before. He looked…defeated.

And then I left him.

I'm not entirely sure of _why_ I left him. I could have stayed, I could have tried to coax more words out of him, to break him down, to make him realize his withdrawal from us was unhealthy, or even borderline mad. But, as I practically ran down countless flights of stairs, I realized Harry was right. He was _so_ right.

This wasn't my battle, or even Ron's. This was Harry's battle, the battle between him and Voldemort. I was a stupid girl for ever thinking that anything I could do would help save him from what he had to do. When he confronts Voldemort for the last time, he will be alone, and neither I nor Ron would be there to help him. Up until this point, I had so much faith in the fact that Harry was strong, and that he was brave, and he could never die when facing Voldemort. It had been that way on numerous occasions. But I mentally slapped myself when I thought about it. Harry had been lucky each time he faced him. Sheer, talent less, unconvincing _luck_.

After rushing through the halls of Hogwarts, I became quite breathless. I slid to the floor, contemplating everything that has been happening, and everything that would happen in the near, unsuspecting future. I panted, my heart thumping madly in my chest. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. And then, quite suddenly, I began to cry.

Oh, all of the reasons to cry! I was crying for Harry, and for Ron. I was crying because I was frustrated. I cried because of all the homework I had to do, and the demands of my professors day in and day out. I cried because I didn't know what else to do.

Finally, I made myself regain composure. I gave a tremendous sniff and stood back up, wiping my tears away. And then, quite suddenly, I became aware of someone watching me. I squinted in the darkness and realized it was Professor Snape.

A wave of panic swept over me. How long had he been standing there? He made no effort to move or to speak, even with me staring at him. When my stare turned into a glower, however, he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Are you quite done, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" I snapped.

I can assure you that at any other time I would have been my respectful, bootlicking self. But now however, my nerves were tapped and I was in no mood for his snide, sarcastic comments.

Snape narrowed his eyes and stepped forward again. When he spoke, his voice was in a deathly whisper.

"You should take care not to speak to me in such a tone, Miss Granger."

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. It was quite like Snape to make himself seem better than us _mere_ students. My emotional distress obviously meant nothing to him. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was annoyed by it.

"I'm sorry sir," I replied, forcing my voice to be as sarcastically polite as it could. "I didn't realize you cared so much about me. But yes, I am done crying, if you're so curious to know."

My words made Snape absolutely livid. I was about to add something on top of that when I heard a voice speak behind Snape.

"Severus."

I recognized the voice, but Snape very obviously didn't. He whipped around quickly, his body visibly tense. But when he realized it was Dumbledore, he let himself relax, but only a little.

"Yes?" he said curtly. He sounded very unpleased that Dumbledore interrupted the confrontation.

"I apologize for this, but we need to have a discussion in my office immediately. I daresay you can continue after, if you wish."

It amazed me how old Dumbledore sounded. I was watching this scene when our eyes met. I thought I almost saw a twinkle there.

"Yes, yes, of course," Snape said shortly. "And no, this doesn't need to continue."

With that, he followed Dumbledore, and I watched them until they disappeared around the corner. They had left me alone, and I decided to go back to the common room and to try to get some sleep.

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_Well, that's the end of chapter one. Kindly inform me of your comments, suggestions, or anything else. I do like to know that my stories aren't complete fiascos. I am also looking for a BETA, if anyone is interested. Thank you._


	2. Halfway There

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews. I enjoy getting them very much. However, if you're going to say something negative about the story (I'm not pointing fingers), please at least provide an explanation of why you didn't like the story/how it could be changed, etc., or I won't even regard your review. Thank you so much!

And thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing my story. I really appreciate it!

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**Chapter Two – _Halfway There_**

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That night, I did not sleep well at all. I tossed and turned all night, weaving in and out of terrible dreams. They didn't make much sense. Almost all of them had Harry, Dumbledore, and for some reason, Snape. Although I couldn't exactly make them out, they were horrible, with vivid colors and shady figures. I woke up several times, blinded by the darkness, panting as if I had just run a mile.

I won't pretend that this is the first night I had been plagued by dreams like this because in fact, I had been going through this ordeal for about a month. But I had never dreamed of Snape before. I can't imagine what caused me to…and then – my half-asleep and cumbersome brain remembered our exchange earlier that evening.

Of course…what other explanation was there? I was upset and he was indifferent. Of course my brain would work that into my dreams somehow…

I realized I could barely keep my eyes open. I was so exhausted and I had lessons tomorrow.

_At least tomorrow's Friday,_ I thought, and fell back onto my pillow, asleep before I had even settled.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke much later than normal. I'm sure you can imagine what a state I was in: rushing about, trying to brush my teeth and hair at the same time. By the time I had managed to make myself look presentable, I was to be late to my first lesson of the day, which happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I had to be extremely foolish. What with the impolite words I had said to Snape the night before, and now, to be late to his class? He was more than certain to pay me back, somehow.

As I approached his classroom door, I began to feel quite nervous. I truly was scared of what he would say or do. And then I realized I was actually _scared _of him. Or was I scared of the humiliation of him making me feel like an idiot in front of everyone, including all of the seventh year Slytherins? Well, I can assure you that the idea wasn't a welcome one.

I opened the door as noiselessly as I could. Unfortunately, Snape spotted me instantly. His cold eyes flickered in my direction, and a rather cruel smile began to play on his face.

"It appears as if Miss Granger has decided to grace us with her presence."

I could feel my temper rising despite myself. Everyone turned to look at me, and I heard several Slytherins begin to laugh.

"I'm sorry. I overslept," I said shortly, making my way to my seat. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

"Ah? Well, maybe a detention will prevent that from ever happening again," Snape said silkily.

My blood began to boil. He was being most unfair. He was giving me a detention for being _five minutes late_?

Snape continued to watch me, but I refused to even look at him. I could hear Malfoy sniggering in the back of the classroom.

After what seemed like an hour, Snape finally began to teach again. Normally, I would have been quite attentive, taking in every word he said as if my life depended on it. Today however, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pay attention for more than a minute; because in fact, my mind kept wandering.

I knew Snape had given me the detention to pay me back for what I had said yesterday to him. Harry and Ron had been ten minutes late to one of his lessons, way back in our third year. All Snape had done there was take away ten house points. But this still didn't calm me. It infuriated me even more. If Snape wasn't such a despicable git, maybe none of this would have never have happened. When I realized exactly what I was thinking, I sighed inwardly. He is the way he is, and nothing will ever change that.

I was hoping by the end of the lesson that he would have forgotten the detention. However, when the bell rang, I was sourly disappointed to hear him say, "Miss Granger, come here. We need to arrange your detention."

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. I gave myself a mental pep talk to keep quiet as much as I could, because I feared my temper would ruin everything, as it tended to do many times in the past.

When I had arrived in front of his desk, he eyed me malevolently.

"Miss Granger, if I'm not mistaken, this is your first detention, is it not?" he asked.

I wanted very much to slap that look off his face, but instead I forced myself to say evenly, "Yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

To this, I said nothing. Instead, I began to glower at him.

"Your _first_ detention will take place here, in my classroom. You are to clean the tables and scrub the walls without magic. And Miss Granger, if you don't knock that look off your face, I'll be sure to make this detention last very long indeed."

I clenched my jaw, but forced my face into an emotionless state, all the while wishing him ill. Snape smirked at this.

"You may go. Be here at eight o'clock. If you're late, I will add another detention."

Before he had hardly finished his sentence, I spun on my heel and all but stomped out of the classroom. I won't pretend I was handling the situation in a mature manner. But the one day I slip up is the one day Snape decides to have a field day with my mistakes. Second period happened to be one of my free periods, and I made my way to Gryffindor tower. I was quite surprised when I got there, as I was greeted by Ron.

"Uh…hey," he said awkwardly.

"Um…hi, Ron," I replied, not entirely sure what to do.

"Well…I s'pose I'm sorry, 'Mione," he said quietly, looking straight at me. I could see Harry behind him in the distance, sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire, his head bowed, doing homework.

"For what, Ron?" I asked. We both sat down on a couch together on the other side of the room from Harry.

"C'mon, Hermione. I've been a real prat, not talking to you and all. It's just…" he lowered his voice. "It's just with Harry not talking to anyone and school this year being so tough…I…well, I miss you, Hermione."

A smile broke out on my face, but it was a sad one. With his words, I realized that I had missed him very much too.

"Oh, Ronald! I've missed you too! I've been a bigger prat than you, though. I never even tried to talk to you." I lowered my voice and said, "I've just been so worried about Harry…"

"We all have, I think," Ron responded, looking at his hands. "Let's go for a walk, 'Mione."

I nodded, and we both stood up and left the common room, leaving Harry alone. After several minutes of walking aimlessly through the corridors, Ron said, "I haven't got him to say much at all for nearly three months. It's unhealthy. Does Dumbledore know?"

I shrugged, by I had my doubts. "I don't know…but I don't think Dumbledore would let Harry act like this if he did."

Ron nodded, but didn't say anything for awhile. I began to notice that Ron had grown up very much, just like Harry. It seemed amazing to me that you can look at something for so long, that you don't really see what you're looking at after awhile. It seemed in three months, Harry had dropped his worries to the wind, but Ron had picked them up. It wasn't playing well with him, I could see. He had bags under his eyes and looked thoroughly exhausted.

"I've been trying to get him to talk every day. Every night, before we go to bed, I talk to him. He just shrugs or grunts really. I know it's wrong, and I know it's unhealthy, but I can't do _anything_ to get him to say something, or even put a full sentence together. The most I heard him talk in three months was when he answered Slughorn's question the other day," Ron said. "I just don't understand."

"I know, Ron. But let's just take this slowly, alright? He just needs time to heal. Dumbledore really is asking him for a lot. I'm just glad I've got you to talk to now. I was getting rather lonely with no one to talk to."

Ron grinned sheepishly. But I wasn't saying that just to be nice, I honestly was happy to have him back as my friend. I mentally slapped myself for ever thinking our friendship could die.

"So…why did you sleep in? Just tired?" he asked.

"Yeah, I suppose…" I said, trailing off. "I had a lot of nightmares last night."

Ron looked concerned. "About what?"

"I…I don't know, they were all so confusing…"

Ron nodded. "I've been having nightmares too. It's going to be alright, Hermione. I promise. Everything's going to be fine."

I smiled warmly at Ron, but a part of me couldn't help but feel that he was simply trying to comfort me. While I was grateful for it, comforting words was not going to solve anything, including –

"I can't believe you've landed yourself a _detention_. And with Snape, no less."

I groaned. "Please, don't remind me. It's bad enough as it is."

"What've you done to make him so mad?" he asked curiously.

"I dunno," I lied. "But he's making me clean his tables _and _walls, without magic!"

"That's Snape for you," Ron said, a knowing smile on his face. "Cheer up, 'Mione. It's not the worst he could make you do, trust me."

I sighed but didn't say anything. I only hoped that Ron was right.

* * *

_Whew! What a long chapter. It certainly is one of the longest I have ever written. I can assure you that I'm going to try very hard to make the chapters of this story quite long, because I do find short chapters pointless…sometimes. There are exceptions. However, I'm excited to know how you feel about this chapter, so please review!_


	3. Detention

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews! And thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing my story. I really appreciate it!

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**Chapter Three – _Detention_**

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Time has a dreadful way of speeding up when you're dreading something. This I noticed today after my conversation with Ron. I would have been quite content with it slowing down a bit, because the detention was certain to be dreadful. No matter how much Ron insisted it could be worse, that Snape could be making me write lines until I felt my bones cracking, that it's only a few desk and walls, it wasn't the detention itself I was actually dreading. It was Snape.

Because there was no getting around the fact that he just _doesn't like me_. I had never given him an absolute reason to, but it is quite clear that he doesn't. It bothered me all day, thinking about it. It wasn't just the detention, either. For as long as I could remember, he had never been fair to Harry, Ron, or me.

As my mind spanned over the past six years of my Hogwarts career, it picked out any time I had ever come in contact with Snape. Each time was not pleasant. Whether it involved Harry, Ron, and me as a group or just me alone, he has never been cordial or anything close to it. I remembered in my third year, when he had called me an 'insufferable know-it-all', and in my fourth year, when he had insulted the size of my teeth.

How could someone be so cruel and not even care?

There had to be an explanation, I mused, walking with Ron to his classroom. There had to be a solid reason why he treated me the way he did. Underneath his insults, I could see he was extremely intelligent and intelligent people did not just hurt others for no reason.

I snapped out of my thoughts to realize that Ron was rambling. He was telling me the detention would be fine, he said he knew I was still worried about it, even after what he had said second period. I glanced at him.

"Well…" I said, as we had stopped right in front of his door. "Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it."

"Just don't let mean ol' Snape get you down, 'Mione."

I smiled and knocked on the door as Ron walked away, towards the stairs that would undoubtedly lead to Gryffindor tower.

"Enter," I heard and I quickly gave myself the mental pep talk I had before. I did not want to loose my temper again.

As I opened the door, I saw Snape sitting at his desk, probably grading some poor student's essay, which would most likely get a D. Snape wore a particularly nasty look on his face when he saw me.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're on time, Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. I shot him a filthy look and then looked at the floor in front of his desk. There was a bucket and sponge.

"I see you've noticed your tools for tonight," he said airily and dipped his quill into the ink bottle on his desk. "Get to work."

I said nothing, but merely dragged the bucket to the desks and picked up the sponge to the desks and began to scrub them with vigor. I was venting my anger on the innocent desk, but I very much wanted to tell Snape exactly how I felt.

Was it a good idea? Well, my brain instantly screamed 'No!' but every other part of me wanted to, most particularly my pulse.

"Professor," I said, without thinking.

"I do hope you're interrupting me to tell me you're finished," Snape said without looking up.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm not."

Snape looked up at me, anger flashing in his cold, dark eyes. My breath hitched in my throat, but I was not a coward and would not back down from what I started.

"Why did you give me this detention?"

Snape glared at me.

"I thought I made that quite clear, Miss Granger. And it would do you well to address me as 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."

He sounded dangerous, but I was livid.

"Oh? _Sir_? Tell me, _sir_, because I seem to have forgotten."

I knew I sounded disrespectful and I almost feared what he would do next. I had never planned on this conversation to take such a nasty turn, let alone speak to him at all.

"I gave you this detention, Miss Granger, because you were late."

His voice was low and even, but I knew he was on the verge of shouting.

"What about in our third year, _Professor_, when Harry and Ron were ten minutes late? _Ten_! I was only five this morning!"

"Are you dictating the way I teach, Miss Granger?" Snape was on his feet now, glaring at me with such ferocity, had he been able to, he would have burnt a hole right through me.

"What if I was?" I said, glaring at him as fiercely as he was at me. "What if I told you that you were a lame excuse for a teacher, spending all of your time bullying us because you have nothing better to do!"

Time seemed to have stopped. The classroom was completely silent, and a part of me wondered if I had crossed the line. Snape was breathing heavily, I could see his chest rising and falling under his robes. And then –

"Get out."

I dropped my glare, but continued to stare at him, my mouth threatening to drop.

"What?"

"Get OUT!"

I dropped my wet sponge to the floor, hearing the _splat_ as it made contact. I left his classroom, taking particular care to slam the door shut as hard as I could. One of the panes fell from the window and shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces.

* * *

_GASP! That mean-old-smelly-greasy-jerky-faced-loser-butt Snape! Just kidding. Well, no, I'm not, because he was kind of mean in this chapter, but I daresay Hermione was too._

_I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but it seemed an appropriate place to end it. More to come soon!_


	4. The Mistake and The Strange Realizations

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews everyone! They're so great! And thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing my story.

* * *

**Chapter Four – _The Mistake and These Strange Realizations_**

* * *

I was running down the corridors, absolutely fuming. I had never felt angrier in my life; my blood was pumping quickly through my veins, I could hear my heart in my ears…how did I let this happen? Snape was the most insufferable man I had ever come in contact with. I truly believed he had nothing better to do than to make all of his students miserable.

I was quite aware of the fact that I was acting like an immature brat, but I had never let anyone get the best of me in such a way before. You can imagine that I hardly knew what to do. I was 18 for Merlin's sake, not five!

I was so lost in thought that I didn't realize there was someone in front of me. And I'm quite sure you know what happened next.

"Watch out!" I heard as I knocked into them. I fell to the ground and hit my head, big sparks began to sear across my vision. I was so frustrated and angry that I cried out, and whoever I knocked into knelt over to help me up. I blinked, and realized that the person helping me was Ron.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked, with a look of concern.

"Yes, I'm fine…thank you Ron…I'm sorry," I said, standing up and dusting off my robes.

"It's fine," he said, a confused look on his face. "Why where you running like that?"

I felt annoyed at his question, but I wasn't annoyed at him. It made me think of my anger, and what had just happened in Snape's classroom.

I took a deep breath. "Snape and I…" I couldn't think of any other word for it. "We had a fight."

Ron stared at me. It was quite interesting to see his reaction.

"About what?" he asked.

"Well," I began, quite unsure of where to begin. "Well I sort of insulted him."

A grin broke out across Ron's face. "That's not hard to do, is it?"

"Ron!" I reprimanded. "This isn't funny, not one bit! For Merlin's sake, if Snape has any sense, he'll give me detention for a year!"

Ron's grin faded. "Okay, okay…I'm sorry. It was that bad, huh?"

"Yes."

There was silence for awhile. I hadn't even realized it, but Ron and I were walking, aimlessly wandering the corridors while we spoke.

"Well…what'd you say that was so terrible?" he finally said.

"I called him a lame excuse for a teacher, and I said that he spent all of his time bullying us because he had nothing better to do."

Ron let out a low whistle. "C'mon 'Mione, what made you say that?"

My anger quickly returned. "It's not like I _meant _to say it, Ronald! It just…came out of my mouth! He's a filthy git and I can't _stand_ him! The way he acts like he's better than us, just because he's a professor! He runs around favoring Slytherin, taking points from Gryffindor, just because he can! It's _disgusting_!"

Once I had said all of that, I realized I was shouting at Ron. Ron had paled somewhat, and I figured he was surprised that for the first time in seven years, I was actually insulting a teacher. I realized that in all this time, I had sided with Snape, even when both Harry and Ron suspected him of something or other. I had never actually understood the magnitude of Ron and (more so) Harry's hate of Snape. While it was true that he had been nasty in the past, I figured it was just something he had to do. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Ron continued to stare, his face becoming quite pallid. But I realized he wasn't staring at me, he was staring at something behind me, and I turned my head to see none other than Snape himself. I felt my face lose all color, and when I tried to swallow, I found that my mouth had gone completely dry.

Well! The look on Snape's face was only diminutive to what I was sure he was feeling. He stepped forward and grabbed my upper arm with such unexpected strength that I was caught off guard. Ron looked scared, and I couldn't help but wave a small good-bye to him as Snape began to practically drag me away. I tried to get out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip more with each attempt. I let out a small cry and he said, "Miss Granger, you are in enough trouble as it is. Do _not_ make it worse for yourself."

I expected him to take me to Dumbledore's office, but he was taking me down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I was absolutely petrified. I had no idea what he would do, but I knew that whatever it was, it would be horrible. My mind began to work on overdrive. What would he do to me? Would he give me more detentions? Take a hundred house points away from Gryffindor? Suspend me? Expel me? _Kill _me?

He led me inside the classroom and up the steps in the back that lead to his office. He muttered something at the door and it opened, and without any word, he shoved me inside. I felt the pressure he was leaving on my arm go away, but it still hurt. I rubbed it tenderly and realized that Snape had sat down at his desk and was glaring at me.

"Sit _down_, Miss Granger."

He was looking at me, but I didn't know what to do. I was terrified of him and what he would do to me, but I sat down in the chair in front of his desk nonetheless.

"Professor, I –"

"Miss Granger, I highly advise you to _shut_ _up_ for once in your life," Snape snapped. His voice was low, but I recognized the danger in it. The anger in his face never faltered, but in his eyes, I saw something I couldn't exactly name.

"Do you realize the seriousness of this situation, Miss Granger? Do you realize exactly what you have done? Not only have you blatantly disrespected me, you have gone beyond that. How _dare_ you insult me?"

He fell silent, staring at me. I realized that I had begun to whimper. I realized what I had done already, long before he dragged me into his office. But at the words coming out of his mouth like that, I began to realize exactly how horrible I had treated him. I had hurt his feelings by saying all of those things.

"What are you _doing_, Miss Granger?"

And of course, I began to cry.

"I – I – I'm sorry, Professor!" I practically shouted. "It's just – I was so _mad_ at you for giving me the detention! And yesterday – I – Harry…I don't know, I'm just so sorry!"

I couldn't believe what was happening. I was crying in front of Snape. I was crying to him, or at him, or for him…I couldn't decide. Snape looked completely surprised at my sudden outburst of emotion. I continued to cry, but I didn't say anything else.

After a few minutes, Snape seemed to collect himself.

"Miss Granger!" he barked. "Calm yourself immediately!"

I began to sniff, willing myself to stop. I don't know if you've had very many emotional outbursts like this, but they're extremely difficult to stop at will. But I somehow managed to do it, all the while Snape glaring at me – but his glare had softened.

"I want you to know that your actions are not going to go unpunished. I don't care what personal problems you may have, it is no excuse to take your temper out on whomever you please. I am taking fifty house points away from Gryffindor and giving you a month's worth of detentions, the first one starting tomorrow at eight."

I signed inwardly. I was almost expecting this, but a _month_ of detentions?

Snape continued to watch me, almost threatening me to protest. He didn't have the sneer on his face however, or the cruel smile he so often had.

"Yes sir," I said quietly. I looked down at my hands. "I'm sorry, Professor."

I looked up just in time to see him raise one eyebrow, an almost disappointed expression on his face. However, the second I noticed it, it was gone.

"That will do, Miss Granger. Kindly remove yourself from my sight. Be here tomorrow evening at eight o'clock."

"Yes sir," I said again. I stood up and almost wanted to say something else to him, anything, to make him realize how sorry I really was. I knew how it felt to have people insult me. But he had his head bowed now, he was writing something. I shook my head and left his office, softly closing the door behind me.

* * *

_Very interesting turn of evens, no? Reviews appreciated._


	5. How Confusing

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters. 

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for all your reviews! It makes me so happy. Just to let you know, I have a fan fiction site too, so if you guys write Harry Potter or band fan fiction, you should check it out – deadletters. Thanks!

Thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing!

* * *

Chapter Five – How Confusing

* * *

Just because I felt horrible for insulting Snape, I can assure you that I did not want to spend a month's worth of detentions with him. I couldn't imagine why he would want to give them to me, to be honest. It seemed that I lost my temper quite easily lately. Surely he would want me to stay away from him? _He probably just wants another excuse to punish you_, I thought. _Isn't that something he does?_

Shaking all of these thoughts away, I returned to the common room that night to find Harry, alone as usual, sitting by the window. Without really thinking, I sat down next to him, once again noting how much older he looked.

I didn't know what to say, as usual. Harry was supposed to be my best friend, the hero. Yet here he was – the brave, courageous, loyal Harry Potter – moping about, staring out of the window, completely ignoring me. Why wouldn't he even look at me? What was wrong with him?

I wanted so badly to shake him and shout his name until he realized what an idiot he was. I couldn't explain my feeling – I just…_missed_ him. What was I supposed to do?

"Harry," I said firmly. I heard him sigh.

"What, Hermione?"

I was completely taken aback. I had not expected him to respond. I was quiet for a moment and then I said in a shaky voice, "What's the matter with you?"

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. He brushed his hair out of his eyes with his left hand and then he began to speak, slowly and in a low voice.

"I don't really know…everyone asks me if I'm alright all the time, and I say that I'm fine, but…I'm not. Am I?"

He turned his head toward me, and for the first time in three months, I saw emotion there. He looked sad and quite alone.

"Harry…you're depressed –"

"I don't want to hear your diagnosis, Hermione. I don't care."

"But you do!" I said fiercely. "Harry, for Merlin's sake! Stop doing this to yourself!"

Harry sighed again, his brow furrowed.

"I – I can't help it! I just feel like I _have_ to be this way. Whenever I think about being happy, or when I want to smile or laugh, this voice in my head is telling me 'How could you be happy at a time like this? Voldemort is killing innocent people…' " Harry paused, seemingly to think about what to say. "I – I just don't know what to do," he said desperately.

"Harry…that's why you come to Ron and me. We're your best friends, we're here for you, no matter what."

Harry was quiet again. It looked as if there was a battle going on behind his eyes. I'm afraid to say that I almost feared what he was going to say.

"I've been stupid, haven't I?" Harry finally said.

A smile broke out on my face. I threw my arms around his neck and breathed in his ear, "Oh, Harry…I'm so glad you're back…"

Harry was patting my back. I'm sorry to say that hugging was not something he was entirely comfortable with, but at that point, I honestly did not care. Harry was back, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

The next day was different from any other school day for the first time since last year, and I know it was because our "trio" was back together. Everything suddenly seemed ten times funnier; Harry was smiling again and Ron was attempting to crack jokes, just like the old days.

Nothing could have dampened my mood, not even a detention with Snape.

* * *

I arrived to his classroom at 8 o'clock sharp, just as he had asked. I was determined to show him how truly sorry I was.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," I said when I arrived. Snape was seated at his desk, grading papers again.

He glanced at me and said, "Good evening, Miss Granger. Tonight I'm having you finish what you started last night. The bucket and sponge are over there." He indicated the farthest desk to the end of the classroom.

"Yes sir," I said, to be polite. There was no sarcasm in my words. I went to the desk and promptly began to scrub. I'm sure you can imagine what kinds of naughty and distasteful things students wrote on the desks, and even more so because they were Snape's. As I was about to put the sponge in the bucket to rinse it off, I felt an excruciating pain on my left hand. I had cut it open from a nail sticking out of one of the desk's legs.

I gasped and then cringed at the sight of my own blood beginning to flow freely from my hand. I couldn't think of anything to do, but I didn't want Snape to know I had hurt myself. I rubbed the sponge on my cut to get the excess blood off and then rinsed it thoroughly. I finished with that desk and began to do the next one.

I had been working for about forty-five minutes when I realized that someone was watching me. I looked up at Snape and I saw that he was indeed watching me, while playing with the feather of his handsome eagle quill. Our eyes met and I recall staying like that until he looked down and began to grade again. I was quite unnerved by this, but decided to forget about it. When I had finished all of the desks, Snape cleared his throat.

"That's enough for now, Miss Granger. You may finish the walls tomorrow night. Since it's past curfew, I will escort you to Gryffindor Tower. Come with me."

I was utterly perplexed by his odd behavior. He was not acting like himself at all. His voice was not sarcastic and he was making no rude comments. He was actually being…_polite_.

"Yes sir," I said, placing the bucket and sponge by his desk and waiting for him to stand. He didn't, but his eyes were fixed on my left hand.

"You're cut," he said briskly.

"It's nothing," I said hastily.

"It looks deep," he said. His voice sounded different than I had ever heard it.

"It's not, it's fine. Sir," I said. I was quite unnerved by the way Snape was acting.

Without warning, he grabbed my hand and began to inspect it. The cut was not bleeding anymore, but Snape still seemed to be concerned about it. He got his wand out from a pocket of his robes and, still holding my hand, barely brushed the cut with its tip. He muttered something that I didn't catch, and then I felt the throbbing pain from the cut stop immediately. He let go of my hand and I felt the warmth his had given seep away quickly from it. The cut was completely gone.

"Thank you, Professor," I said quietly. Snape said nothing, but stood up and led me to Gryffindor Tower.

"Goodnight, sir," I said.

He looked confused for a moment, but then he turned and walked away without another word.

I won't pretend I wasn't hurt by this.

* * *

_Well, this chapter was fun to write. Reviews appreciated!_


	6. “Good Night”

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing. And keep those reviews coming! You guys inspire me.

* * *

**Chapter Six – _"Good Night"_**

* * *

"Okay, so tell me – he helped you with your cut…and that was it? He didn't insult you or anything?" 

"No. It was so strange."

It was dinner, after the detention with Snape. Naturally, I had wasted no time telling Harry and Ron about what happened in Snape's classroom. They seemed as weirded out by the encounter as I did.

"It's strange, when you think about it," Harry said slowly. "He's a total git, but I would suppose he's not completely heartless. He could have ignored it, or sent you to Madam Pomfrey…right?"

I nodded. "It just doesn't seem like Snape at all."

We were all doing homework – that is to say, Ron and Harry were pretending while I gave in to help them. I honestly didn't mind doing their homework, but I always reminded them that they needed to do it on their own. Needless to say, the message had not yet sunk in.

Tonight, Harry was putting much more effort into his homework than Ron. However better Harry seemed since our talk, I could tell he was still struggling. On moments when I noticed it, I took particular care to sit by him and engage him into any conversation I could – usually about Quidditch. This always did the trick. Ron was not normally paying any attention, but staring sulkily at Lavender Brown, which was something he had been doing more and more lately, which I had noticed even before we had started speaking again. While I admit I fancied him last year, I'm afraid to say that the feeling died itself out.

"What's up, Hermione?" I heard Harry ask.

"Oh, nothing," I said, coming back to reality. I seemed to be drifting off a lot more lately.

"Just thinking?" Harry asked, looking up from his paper. Ron was staring at Lavender, who was talking with Parvati, giggling.

"Yeah, I was," I replied, frowning at Ron. It wasn't that I was jealous about the attention he was paying to Lavender; I just couldn't understand why he would like her again. Their relationship last year did not end in a way one would call pleasant.

Harry realized I was staring at Ron, and realized where Ron was staring too. He said loudly, "So Hermione, want to help me? I can't remember how Flitwick said to wave your wand for the charm we leaned today…"

I moved over and sat next to Harry and whispered, "It's okay, Harry, I'm not jealous or anything. I just can't see why he would fancy her again…"

"Oh, ha-ha, I dunno…" Harry replied, smiling at me.

Without really thinking, I took Harry's quill and began to write the essay for him, all the while explaining to him how exactly one did wave their wand for the Pigmentation Charm. One thing I always really liked about helping Harry was that he actually listened to me and tried to learn from me helping him.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said about fifteen minutes later. "You really should consider becoming a teacher."

I snorted at this. Ron had resumed working, now that Lavender and Parvati had gone to their dormitory, probably to discuss some new piece of gossip; it was far too early to go to bed yet.

Something seemed out of place.

"Hermione!" Harry said abruptly. "You were supposed to be at Snape's detention an hour ago!"

My stomach dropped. "What? Oh _no_! I'm going to be in so much trouble!"

With that, I promptly ran off to the third floor, hoping beyond all hope that he would somehow take it easy on me.

I burst into his classroom, clutching my side and gasped, "Professor Snape I am so sorry!"

I looked up to see Snape at a bookshelf, returning a very old volume to its place.

"Miss Granger, you are an hour late for your detention."

"I know sir, I'm terribly sorry…I was doing homework and I -"

"Miss Granger, I don't want to hear your petty excuses. I would expect you, of all students, to be responsible enough to be on time."

I was completely silent, and almost ashamed of myself.

"You will stay an hour later than you normally would have."

I mentally thanked whatever god was out there that it was Saturday.

Snape turned around and looked at me. It struck me as odd at how tired he looked. I felt bad I would be making him stay up an hour later than he would normally.

"I'm sorry sir. I – I really am."

Snape continued to watch me for a moment, but then pointed to the desk closest to his own teacher's desk. It was laden with parchment, a quill, and ink.

"I have decided to give you lines tonight," he said quietly. I sat down at the desk, very much aware that his eyes were still upon me.

"I would like you to write," he began, but paused, still watching me. "'I must not lose my temper, as it usually doesn't lead me anywhere good.'"

I stared down at my paper, blushing tremendously, but starting to feel a little angry at this. He was being condescending, even after I had cried because I was so sorry about losing my temper.

"How many times, sir?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Snape gave a little sigh, and then sat down at his desk.

"As many times as I see fit."

"Yes sir." I began to write, trying not to think about what I was writing. Even though the lines Snape had set were far from kind, I couldn't help but feel that the Snape I saw yesterday wasn't completely gone. I couldn't help but wonder if Snape was acting so different because he was tired, or because he decided that insulting me did no good. I honestly couldn't understand what he was thinking when it came to the way he treated his students…well, actually, I couldn't understand his thinking about _anything_.

I glanced up at Snape, wondering why he was so tired anyway. I felt compelled to ask, but I didn't think that Snape would find that a very appropriate question, especially in the middle of a detention. I continued to look at him, lost in my thoughts, and then I realized that he was looking back at me with a rather odd expression on his face. While I should have looked down and continued my lines, I…_couldn't_. There was something about the way that he was looking at me, it was as if he were asking me a question and looking for the answer right there on my face.

"Is there something you need, Miss Granger?" Snape asked abruptly. I jumped in my seat and managed to spill my ink bottle.

"Oh, Merlin…" I mumbled, quite angry with myself. I cleaned the ink up and vanished the spilt ink on the desk. Snape was watching my hasty movements with a slightly amused look on his face. I blushed and said, "Sir, I…I need more ink, please."

Snape opened a draw in his desk and gave me another ink bottle.

"Take care not to spill this one," he said, amusement in his voice.

"I –" I was completely confused, _again_. Why was he acting like this? The normal Snape would have docked points, or told me to live without – why wasn't he doing any of those things? Why was he being so…_nice_?

"Thank you," I said finally. I began to write my lines again, all the while letting my mind wander.

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Snape told me that it was time to stop and he would take me to Gryffindor Tower. It was almost eleven o'clock and he looked thoroughly exhausted. I felt horrible for him, as I felt that it was my fault he was so tired. I was thankful once again that it was Saturday, and that he could at least sleep in the next morning if he wished. 

Snape silently walked me to the Fat Lady. When we arrived, I turned to him.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. I'm sorry I was so late – you're probably exhausted. Well, you look so anyway." I paused, trying to find any clue as to how he felt about these words. But he simply stood there, staring at me. I shook my head slightly, as if trying to shake my confusion right out of it, and then said, "Well…good night, sir."

With that, I turned and said the password to the Fat Lady (Wobbygobbles), and stepped inside. I paused just in time to hear a soft, "Good night," on the other side of the canvas.

* * *

_Onetwothree … awww. _


	7. Fascination

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Thank you **polywolly** for BETA-ing. Sorry for the delay! Exams took place this week; I'm sure you can imagine how tired I've been! Plus the migraines don't help. So, sorry, please forgive me.

* * *

**Chapter Seven - _Fascination _**

* * *

As the week progressed, I became more and more used to the detentions Snape had given me. Admittedly, the tasks he set me were not entirely difficult; most of them allowed my mind to wander. Strangely enough, I often found myself thinking about _him_. My mind often posed questions I wanted to ask him – but of course, many of them I couldn't even imagine myself asking. During these detentions, he was normally completely silent, but I soon began to realize that Snape was a very thoughtful person. I don't mean to say that he was kind, well, not _really_ – I simply mean that he was a person who thought very much. 

I could see it even in the way he would grade even the simplest of papers. He went at a painstakingly slow pace and he would usually pause and look around his classroom, apparently lost in thought. Sometimes he would look around until his eyes landed on me. Sometimes I pretended not to notice, but other times, I would look up to find him watching me with a rather curious expression on his face. I couldn't help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking.

I would never look at him on these occasions, but continue with the task that he set me, willing my mind to concentrate.

* * *

Amazingly, Ron had gotten enough courage to talk to Lavender. It seemed as if they were together again, but a lot less attached than last year. The truth of the matter is, I'm quite sure that Ron had matured over the summer in ways I hadn't noticed. Or possibly, he was taking special care for my feelings, which was sweet of him I'm sure, but it wasn't that big of a deal to me anymore. Harry seemed rather keen on talking to me when Lavender was around, although usually she was simply sitting with Ron on a couch doing homework or talking. Nonetheless, Harry was being extremely nice to me, and I was grateful for that.

"Snape giving you any problems?" Harry asked a Friday night after I had returned, some two weeks into my detentions. I smiled.

"No, no, everything's fine," I assured him. "Actually, he doesn't talk all that much."

I fell silent, once again wondering what I had wondered for the past two weeks –

"I don't understand," said Harry, seeming to read my mind. "Snape would normally jump at the prospect of making a Gryffindor miserable for a month. He's not acting like…_himself_."

While it's true that I was just thinking of this, Harry's words still upset me a bit. I fished for a response.

"Well…well maybe he's not the man you thought," I said.

Harry shrugged, looking over at Ron, who was doing homework with Lavender.

"I mean," I insisted. "Honestly, we don't really know him. He might be foul sometimes but…"

"Ah, Hermione, save it. I know how he can get. Maybe you've hit his soft side. You never know," he said, grinning.

I laughed. "Oh yeah, right Harry. The 'insufferable know it all' has hit Snape's soft side."

"Yeah, I see your point," Harry mused, nodding slightly. He looked over at Ron and Lavender again, looking slightly sad.

"What's the matter?" I asked him quietly, watching him closely.

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said quickly, beginning to blush.

"What is it?" I persisted.

Harry shook his head. "You'll only laugh at me."

"Oh Harry, come on. You know I won't."

Harry sighed. "It's just…I've always wanted that, you know…" he said, looking over at Ron and Lavender.

"Wha –" I said, but looked where Harry was looking. "Oh."

Harry looked at me apprehensively, as if he expected me to scold him for ever thinking such a thing.

"Well…" I said, trying to think of what to say. This had taken me by surprise. "Why don't you…go get that?" I asked. "I mean – you are the 'Chosen One' and all." I was, of course, merely teasing him, but my words seemed to be closer to the truth than he would have liked.

"That's the thing, Hermione. You don't understand. Girls like me because I _am_ the Chosen One. But…I want them to like me for who I am. I want them to think of me as Harry, not The Boy Who Lived, or the Chosen One."

I sighed at this. I had thought on this in the past, of course, and now Harry seemed to realize this too.

"Harry…you're famous. What did you expect?"

"I never asked for this," he responded, in a slightly hurt tone.

"Nobody said you did."

"They act like it."

I was quiet for a moment, trying to decide again what to say. This seemed to be a very delicate subject for Harry, but I couldn't tell if he wanted my advice or for me just to listen.

"Harry," I began quietly. "Things in life happen that you can't explain…things you can't control…but I believe that there is always a reason. Yours is just harder and more difficult than most, but…you're a _hero_, Harry. Of course girls want to be with you, of course people look up to you."

Harry was quiet at this, but he appeared troubled still. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "It's all Snape's fault."

Something inside of me felt angered by this. "Harry, he had no idea –"

"It doesn't matter," he shot at me. "If it weren't for him, I'd have parents. Sirius would be alive. We wouldn't be having this damn discussion."

His voice was quiet, but it was quivering with anger. I was at a complete loss for what to say.

"Harry, I –"

"Snape ruined my life, Hermione," Harry said. I could tell he was forcing his voice to be as calm as possible. "Whether he did it purposely or not…he still did it."

"Harry, I – I don't know what you expect me to say…"

"You don't need to say anything. It's just – Hermione," he glanced at me, a sort of pleading in his voice. "These things bother me every single day." He blinked and looked away.

"Harry…I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be," he muttered. "It's not that important."

"Yes it is!" I said fiercely. "It's very important! Harry, please. You can't let these things eat away at you."

"Who can I turn to, then? Dumbledore doesn't even talk to me anymore," Harry snapped, seeming surprised at this himself.

I was extremely hurt by this. I looked down at my hands and said, "You could have turned to me."

I looked up just in time to see the hard look on Harry's face soften.

"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

I shook my head, but I still felt hurt.

"No, no…don't worry about it…" I made for gathering up my things, but realized that I had none. "I – I'm tired. Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night, Hermione," Harry said quietly. I made my way to the girl's dormitory, trying to understand why Harry's words upset me so much.

* * *

At Snape's detention the next day, I had resigned to asking him something. In all honesty, I couldn't decide which question I wanted to ask him more. There were so many floating around in my head; I couldn't pick out the most logical one. After the conversation that I had had with Harry the night before, even more questions had managed to appear, but these were in fact much more personal.

"Good evening, Professor," I said as usual when I entered his classroom.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he responded briskly. "I've decided to give you lines again, but this time, we're punishing you for your lateness on those two very unfortunate occasions two weeks ago. Write, 'Classes are not dates; therefore, being fashionably late isn't at all fashionable.'"

I wanted to laugh at loud. Whenever he set me lines, he always gave me something (in my opinion) both witty and borderline funny.

"Yes sir," I said, and sat down at the desk I usually sat at for lines and began with the parchment, quill, and ink he provided me.

_Classes are not dates; therefore, being late isn't at all fashionable_, I wrote, smiling slightly. I began to feel a prickle as if someone was watching me and looked up to see Snape indeed watching me with an odd expression on his face. Usually, I would have looked down and continued whatever I was doing, but tonight I felt rather brave.

"What is it, sir?" I asked quietly.

Snape was quiet for a moment.

"You…fascinate me," he said finally.

Well, I'm sure you can imagine how taken aback I was! Snape continued to watch me, but I finally found words to say.

"What do you mean, sir?" I asked timidly.

"I mean to say that you never cease to amaze me. You're a very smart young witch, which I'm sure you have realized by now."

"Why – thank you, Professor," I said, beginning to blush.

Snape was quiet again; he was inspecting one of his hands absentmindedly. His dark eyes flickered upward and landed on me.

There was something extremely strange about this glance. It was unlike any of the others he had given me. My breath caught in my throat and I felt heat rising to my face. I quickly looked down at my paper and began to write again.

_Classes are not dates; therefore, being fashionably late isn't at all fashionable_.

He was still watching me. I tried to convince myself that it was because he was lost in thought.

_Classes are not dates_…

I had such an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

…_Therefore…_

"Miss Granger, you are excused," Snape said abruptly.

I looked at him. I hadn't even been there twenty minutes.

"But, Professor –" I began.

"Miss Granger, do not make me repeat myself," Snape said in a low voice.

I stared at him, and then slowly, almost painfully, returned the quill and parchment to him. I stopped short at his desk. He was not looking at me – it seemed as if the pattern of the wood in his desk was much more interesting.

I very much wanted to say something to him. I wondered why he was making me leave. I had a strange feeling that it had something to do with the look he gave me.

"Professor, may I ask – did I do something wrong?" I was watching him closely, my brow furrowed.

Snape appeared to stop breathing. The silence was pounding on my eardrums.

"No," he responded quietly.

"Then why are you making me leave, sir?"

Snape finally looked at me. He no longer looked confused, but there was intense questioning in his voice.

"Are you suggesting that you like these detentions Miss Granger?"

"I –" my voice failed me. We were staring at each other. Snape shook his head slightly; I sighed and looked down at the floor.

"Professor –"

"No, Miss Granger. Don't talk. Just leave."

I didn't move. I was watching him still. He stood up and walked to a bookshelf and took out a thick volume. He began to flip through it, his back to me, but I could tell he had no specific destination.

After about a minute, he stopped flipping.

"Why are you still here, Miss Granger?"

I was silent for a moment, still watching him. I took a deep breath, not believing my daring, and said, "Because I want to be."

Snape turned around, his face uncertain.

"What sort of joke is this?" he asked.

"No joke, sir."

There was once again another silence. Snape seemed to be contemplating the situation; not daring to believe what I had said was true.

"Why would you want to be here?" he asked slowly. The book was resting in his open palms, forgotten.

I smiled slightly.

"Because you fascinate me."

* * *

_MY FIRST CLIFFIE. Reviews loved. _


	8. Uncontrolled

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** Yes, this chapter is long, long, _long_ overdue. Oh well. Sorry. Forgive me? I hope you like this new chapter! It's quite good. 

* * *

_Chapter Eight -** Uncontrolled**_

* * *

The look on Snape's face after I said this was unreadable. He had just parted his lips to speak when there was a knock at the door. Snape started and I thought I saw him lose a grip on his book, but he caught himself. He crossed the classroom and opened the door. 

It was Malfoy.

Now, I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but I despise Malfoy. He is extremely dimwitted, and entirely too smug. His handsome face is always contorted into this odd look, like something is constantly confusing him and he tries to make everyone feel beneath him. This annoys me. What annoys me more is the fact that Snape actually seems to like Malfoy.

When Malfoy saw me he narrowed his eyes slightly, the trademark look he seemed to save specially for me. I had no idea what to do. Leaving would leave Snape in an awkward position, so I stayed where I was and didn't say a word.

"Professor, sir," Malfoy said in his usual drawl, "Can I speak with you?" He glanced at me, sniffed a bit, and added, "Alone?"

Snape hesitated. I could imagine he felt torn between accepting Malfoy's request and continuing our conversation. Or maybe he didn't want to continue our conversation at all, and wanted to think of a good way to end it without Malfoy knowing what was going on.

"Miss Granger…this detention is over. You'll be here tomorrow night at eight o'clock."

That was all. It was over. I silently cursed Malfoy and left the room, silent but sure.

* * *

I didn't tell Harry or Ron about what had happened during my detention later that night. Something about it was much too personal to put into words. I wondered what they would think of it if I did tell them. I didn't think they would understand. I remained silent.

During lessons the next day, I began to drift more than normal. Nothing made sense to me anymore. It seemed as if my life had turned completely upside down. I thought of the look Snape had given me the night before, the slight flicker of his eyes as they landed on mine. He scared me, and I didn't like that.

Ever since I was a small girl, I have always conquered what I did not understand. To fully grasp something and to nurture the knowledge had always been a beautiful thing to me, and I did not want this opportunity to be any different. Why hadn't I ever thought of him like this before? He was a book to me, a book that was locked away in a secret chest to which I didn't have the key. I wanted to find it.

"Miss Granger!" a voice squeaked, and I jumped, startled.

Professor Flitwick was standing on his usual tower of books, staring at me as if he could not believe his eyes. I must admit that I felt quite bad. I sat up straight in my seat and said, "Yes, Professor?"

"Miss Granger. Thank you for returning back to Earth," Flitwick said slowly. A Ravenclaw in the back of the room laughed out loud.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Yes, I daresay you are." He cleared his throat and said, "Miss Granger, can you tell me the proper way to wave your wand to cast a Pigmentation Charm?"

* * *

Later on that night I made sure all my homework was completed before heading to Professor Snape's classroom for detention. I was quite nervous. I didn't know what he would say or how he would act, but I wanted to be as prepared as possible. My mind was still teeming with questions to ask him.

Before opening Snape's classroom door, I knocked timidly. I heard the cold, "Come in," and I opened the door and shuffled into the room. Closing the door securely behind me, I turned to look at Snape.

He was sitting at his desk as usual, but he wasn't grading papers tonight. As a matter of fact, there was nothing on his desk at all but a small inkbottle and a quill on the top right corner.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said quietly. His hands were folded together neatly on his desk, and he was completely still, watching me intently. My heartbeat quickened.

"G-good evening, Professor Snape," I responded.

"Sit down."

The order rang sharp through the air. It had a poisonous ring to it, deadly and fluid. I sat at a table in front of his desk. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I hid them by folding my arms.

Why was I so afraid? There was nothing Snape could physically do to me, nothing to hurt me badly, anyway. I didn't do anything wrong last night. I simply told him how I felt in a respectful way.

"Tonight," Snape began, "You will not be writing lines or scrubbing desks. I have something new in store for you."

I tried to swallow but noticed my mouth was dry. _Something new_?

"What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly.

"Well, I think we need to discuss a thing or two."

He stood up, pushing his chair in perfectly with the desk. My stomach lurched.

"I want you to know that our…conversation last night did not go unnoticed." He paused and then sighed slightly: an almost inaudible sound, but it released the tiniest bit of pressure, and I relaxed a little in spite of myself.

"I'm sorry, sir. It was out of place for me to say that to you."

He slowly began to pace a little, a nervous habit he must have. That is, if Professor Snape got nervous.

"No. I said it too. That's what you're not understanding."

He stopped pacing and looked at me.

"I keep trying to tell you that I apologize for my atrocious behavior. But to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sorry at all."

My heart was thumping quickly and I couldn't find words. I didn't understand what was going on and what had caused this. He was still cold, prickly Professor Snape, but I was seeing something else.

"You do fascinate me, Miss Granger. You always have." Silence. I couldn't even find the will to say thank you. He walked to my desk and brushed the back of his hand over my left cheek.

I shivered. I wasn't quite sure if I was comfortable with this, I felt like a girl, a little girl that had no idea what was going on. It seemed like he had no self-control. This wasn't like Snape at all.

I didn't say anything. It seemed that remaining silent was my best option right now.

"Stand up."

Another order. I stood, blindly, almost bashfully. I looked at my feet. A part of me actually wanted what was happening, another part of me was so afraid. I felt dirty.

"Look at me."

I obliged. Something about him was irresistible, like you couldn't deny what he wanted. I wanted to think I saw more in him than a cold hearted man. He suddenly had a sad look on his face, like he regretted something. It was gone the moment it came.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly. "You're…"

He trailed off before finishing his sentence. I felt hot; it was so hot in his classroom.

"I'm…?" I said, lightly. He looked troubled.

"I feel wrong." Snape said this simply, but it wasn't a simple statement. Then, seemingly abandoning all pretenses, he stepped closer to me, closer and closer until our bodies almost met.

I struggled to breathe properly. I backed up, and he kept coming closer, he wouldn't get the hint…

I couldn't say anything, I didn't want to yell, there was something about this that felt good, somewhere in the lonely corners of my mind, I liked it…

I was against the front wall of the classroom, and he was almost towering over me. He touched my face again, softly, making a lazy trail across my cheek. His breathing was ragged.

"Professor…" I mumbled.

"Shh."

His hand snaked around to the back of my neck and he pushed my face up to his, hard. His lips met mine, a sort of slight linger until it was a desperate need, he wouldn't let go of my neck but I wasn't really straining to get away. Something about this fascinated me, something about this made me want more and I felt the need to pull him as close to me as possible.

He suddenly pulled away from me, a ravenous look on his face. He traced my lips with his thumb. I was motionless, letting emotions I had never felt before overtake me.

"You…you have to go," he said, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"What?" I said, taken aback. I was too nervous to touch him, but I felt like I wanted to.

"Don't. Don't speak. Don't say anything. Just leave." He pulled himself away from me and walked away, up the stairs and into his office, and slammed the door shut.

* * *

**To be continued. (I promise.)**

_Reviews are appreciated._


	9. Changing

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter etc. I am only messing with the characters.

**Author's Note:** I'm sure that pretty much anybody who was reading this story has completely forgotten about it, but here's the next chapter.  


* * *

Chapter Nine - **Changing**  


* * *

I wanted to run. Running would have been a release, an easy way out.

I struggled on what I should do. I was still leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, the memory of his touch lingering on me, on my face, my arms, my neck. Everything seemed so wrong, so absolutely _wrong_. My first reaction was to run away and never come back – running would have been a release. I wanted to forget. But another part of me, the part in the far corners of my mind, wanted more.

After my breathing had slowed down, I began to slowly walk back to the common room. His kiss alighted a passion inside of me that I couldn't ignore. I wanted nothing more than to go back to him and demand an explanation, to demand more, but something inside of me stopped myself. Snape was dangerous, and he scared me.

As a matter of fact, I was quite sure that what had just happened actually did not happen at all. Professor Snape was my _teacher_. Teachers just didn't reach out and _kiss_ their students. Upon thinking of our kiss once more, my breathing began to speed up again.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

"Hermione?" I heard behind me. I turned around and saw Neville Longbottom with a look of slight desperation on his face.

"Hello, Neville," I replied, trying to appear perfectly calm. Neville was carrying about six large and cumbersome-looking books, I reached out to help him and he smiled shyly.

"Thanks, Hermione! These books are _so_ heavy," Neville said, panting a little.

I managed a weak smile. Throughout our Hogwarts career, without a doubt I was always the one to help Neville when it came to his studies. In fact, if it weren't for me, Neville would most likely be almost failing every subject except for Herbology.

Pondering this thought must have caused me to have a distant look on my face for Neville said, "Are you alright, Hermione?"

I blinked and tried to smile again. I wasn't quite sure how to answer this question – what with everything that had happened, and of course what I was going to do next. I decided to lie.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

Neville accepted this. "It has been a long day."

Suddenly I felt very miserable with envy for Neville. Watching him walk beside me, lost in his own perfect little world where nothing complicated or terrible happened to him, save what happened to his parents all those years ago. He didn't have to worry about Snape outside of class, and although it was true that he was clumsy and didn't excel academically very well, he didn't have much to worry about. I wanted to feel as free as Neville, quiet timid Neville.

"Well...thanks for the help, Hermione," Neville said when we'd reached the common room. "Get some sleep...you look pretty tired."

"Alright. No problem," I replied, confused. I suddenly wanted very much just to sit with him and talk. I didn't want to be alone. It was only 8:30 by now, the common room was still quite crowded and noisy. I reached for Neville's arm before he turned away.

"Do you want to sit and talk? About stuff?"

Neville's face turned a little red and I couldn't help myself not to smile.

"About what?" He asked.

"I don't know...anything?"

I wasn't entirely sure why I felt so desperate – maybe it was the fact that I did not want to go to my bed, alone, left to ponder the events that transpired in Snape's classroom. Alone.

"Well, okay," Neville said uncertainly, as if questioning my mental stability. He took the rest of his books from me and carried them all up to his dormitory, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Neville was a good person. I certainly hadn't expected this sudden turn of events, but it was much better than anything else I was going to do tonight.

When Neville came back down, he found me seated on a love seat in front of the fire. I was staring blankly into it, unsure what to say to him, just glad for his company. I was certain that he probably realized there was something more wrong with me than just sleepiness, but he didn't say anything for a few moments.

"Neville," I finally said, looking over at him. He looked at me tentatively. "Do you sometimes wish...you were someone else?"

Neville looked taken aback. I certainly understood why: in all the years we've known each other, I have never once asked him anything like this.

"Sometimes, yeah. Who doesn't?"

"Well, who do you wish you could be?"

Neville looked at his hands. I was watching him, waiting for his response.

"Well...I guess if I could be anybody I'd be Harry."

I stared at him. He looked up at me, blushing again. I noted how much I actually liked the way his face looked when he blushed. I mentally slapped myself immediately following this for being so absurd.

"You don't want to be Harry," I replied hastily.

"Are you kidding me? He's so brave, so popular, _so_...everything."

I stared at him in disbelief. How could anybody want to be _Harry_? In my opinion, he had the worst job in the world. Looking over at Harry with Ron, surrounded by a small group of girls, I grudgingly accepted the fact that on the outside Harry looked as if he was having the time of his life. In fact I knew he was simply recovering from all those months of isolation, but I was not feeling up to explaining all of this to Neville. And surely Neville saw Harry, night after night, staring out of that window, a lost person...

"Honestly...I just want to feel accepted. For once in my life."

I stared at Neville after he said this.

"Explain what you mean?"

He smiled again, but I realized his smile was one out of sadness.

"My whole life all I wanted was to be accepted. For as long as I can remember nobody takes me seriously. I don't even have any real friends to talk to when something's wrong or if I get a bad grade on a test. My Gran is always expecting so much from me but I can never make her proud. I'm just not good enough, and I'm always being compared to Harry at home. So if maybe I could _be_ Harry, I'll never have to worry about being alone or rejected again."

Neville ended this small rant with a sigh, and yet another blush. Neville had never before been this forward with me. I myself had never realized how sad he really was.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to say all that. Honestly I haven't ever told anybody any of this."

"No, no...don't be sorry," I replied. "Everyone feels sad sometimes. Life is so uncontrollable, and some people go throughout it without feeling much happiness at all."

I knew this wasn't going to make Neville feel much better, but I didn't know what else to say. My world seemed to be flipped upside down. Snape kissed me, Harry was finally back, and Neville, poor Neville, was suffering internally with something nobody knew about but me. Everything was changing, and all I wanted at that moment was for everything to go back to the way it was before.  


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**To be continued.**

_Reviews are appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing._


	10. Passion

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Duh.

**Author's Note:** I'm a terrible author. Everyone has been waiting for this story for ages. Oops. ):

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Chapter Ten – **_Passion_**

**_

* * *

_**

I found myself in a strange room.

I looked around and saw that Neville was in the room as well, and there were lots of paintings on the walls. The room was disturbingly bright and colorful. Upon closer inspection, I realized the paintings were disturbing as well – the subjects had an undead look about them, almost like Inferi. Their clothes were ripped and torn and their eyes had a dead look about them. They were all whispering to each other in a language I didn't recognize.

Suddenly, I realized it was Parseltongue.

Neville was holding a baby in a blue blanket. The baby was crying uncontrollably and would not stop, no matter what Neville did. The subjects in the paintings kept laughing and pointing at Neville, their hisses frantic, as if ridiculing him for being unable to control the small baby. I suddenly knew that it was very important I get a hold of this baby. I kept trying to reach the two of them but no matter how fast I walked, they never got any closer. Finally, I broke into a run. The paintings began to swirl, and the combination of noises and colors began to make me quite dizzy. I lost my balance and fell down.

When I looked up, Neville was gone. Instead, Snape was there, and the baby had stopped crying. He was singing it a lullaby in a surprisingly cool and pleasant voice. He looked at me and smiled, and beckoned me closer.

"P-professor, what is going on?" I whispered. I had lost all feeling in my body from fear.

He didn't speak, only smiled. And he beckoned me again.

I stood up, shakily. My heart was pounding. I cannot tell you why I was so frightened, but something about this did not feel right at all. The paintings were hissing again, quietly but frantically.

I began to walk toward Snape, and to my surprise I was able to reach him. I stopped a few feet away from and tried to get a look at the baby he was holding. I was too far away so I stepped closer, until I was close enough to touch it.

I looked into the bundle in Snape's arms and realized with horror what he was holding. The baby had scaly-looking skin and a flat face with red eyes. They were locked onto me and I opened my mouth to let out a scream.

The last thing I remember before I woke up was the look of panic on Snape's face.

* * *

I woke up the next morning in a confused state of mind. I vaguely remember having an extraordinarily disturbing dream, but the majority of the details were lost to me. I struggled to remember the dream. It was so vivid…

A room…Neville…Snape…and a deformed baby… Mostly all I could recall was the feeling of intense fear. How strange.

My thoughts eventually travelled to the previous night's events and my heart began to pound faster immediately. It was Saturday, so I was not forced to face Snape until 8 o'clock that evening. Did he still expect me to show up at his detention? My entire body tingled at the memory of our kiss. Did that actually happen? Did Professor Snape _actually_ kiss me?

Oddly enough, I wanted it again. I hadn't felt this way since my fourth year with Viktor Krum, and even then, his touches were clumsy and what he called his "love" for me was nothing other than lust. But even still, I had desired Viktor in a way I had never desired anybody else, not even Ron. Perhaps this was because we had actually acted on our passions, while Ron and I did nothing but bicker.

I smiled, remembering the feel of Snape's mouth on mine. I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that it would indeed happen again.

I finally emerged from my dormitory to find Harry and Ron sitting in the common room doing homework which was fairly shocking for me. Usually on Saturdays they were outside playing Quidditch or messing around in the Great Hall.

"You woke up late this morning," Harry stated as I sat down next to him.

"I had trouble falling asleep last night," I said, blushing slightly.

The both of them looked at me, concerned.

"Was it Snape? Did he do something to upset you?" Harry asked immediately.

"No, no," I said, a little too quickly. "It was nothing like that." I began to blush again, and to my dismay Ron squinted at me, a look he only gave me when he was suspicious of me.

"Well, if he does, you better tell me as soon as it happens," Harry snarled.

I laughed out loud. "I'll be sure to do that."

We fell into silence for a few moments, which Ron finally broke.

"Er – Hermione, do you think you could help me with this essay? I'm a bit stuck on the intro…"

I smiled. I was waiting for this.

"Sure, sure…"

As I was helping Ron with his essay, I began to think about Neville and our conversation the night before. My heart panged for him in a way I didn't understand. I had known Neville for years – we all had – and I had no idea he was such a sad person.

"Last night Neville and I had an interesting talk," I said. To be quite honest, I wasn't planning on talking about it, but I had a feeling that I probably should.

"Oh really?" Harry asked. "And what was it about?"

"Well…I found him in the halls after my detention and I helped him carry his books back to the common room. Then we started talking and…well…I think he's sad," I finished lamely.

"Sad?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, it's so odd…the way he was talking, it was like he hated himself and his life. He said he wished he were Harry so he would feel accepted more."

Harry laughed out loud, but it was a cruel sound. It made me angry.

"What are you laughing about?" I demanded.

"I don't know if you haven't noticed, Hermione, but my life isn't exactly a picnic," Harry said. "Why in the world would Neville want to be _me_?"

"You weren't there…You didn't see him and the look on his face," I retorted. "I feel like…something is seriously wrong with him."

"What – like he's depressed or something?" Ron asked.

"I…guess so," I replied slowly. "I think he feels alone a lot."

"Why doesn't he go to Madame Pompfrey for a Pick-Me-Up?" Ron asked. "That would make him feel better in no time."

I considered this for a moment. "I honestly think he's embarrassed...he wants to try to make it on his own. I think he feels like a failure to his family. I suppose depression would just add on to his stack of "failures" in his mind."

"Perhaps he doesn't recognize he's depressed," Harry offered.

"Perhaps…" I said, lost in thought. "I want to help him, but I don't know how."

"We have far too much to worry about with N.E.W.T.s to add Neville on top of it! Hermione, he'll be fine. He's probably just stressed because of school. They've really been piling it on us since the first day of class," Ron said, staring at me with a look of confusion. "Why are you so worried about him? We've known him for seven years and you've never had an interest in his mental state before."

"Well, that was before he practically told me he was depressed, wasn't it?" I snapped. "For goodness sake, Ron, you're so tactless sometimes!"

I got up and left the common room without another word. Ron irritated me so much with his thoughtless comments. I stormed all the way to the Great Hall and sat down by myself to eat some breakfast.

After preparing a plate of eggs and sausage, I began to eat, trying to get rid of the anger I felt toward Ron. Really, he's just been stressed from school and all the work the teachers have been piling on us. He didn't mean what he said.

After about five minutes I began to feel as if someone was watching me. I turned my head toward the teachers' table and saw Snape sitting there, looking at me. My heart began pounding at the very sight of him. This was not good at all.

I suddenly lost my appetite but did not want to get up and leave from his sight. However, staring at him was not exactly the wisest thing for me to do, so I began to look around the Great Hall for someone to talk to. Then I noticed Neville, all the way at the very end of the Gryffindor table.

I got up and walked over to him.

"Hi, Neville," I said.

He jumped slightly and looked at me. Upon realizing it was me, his face broke into a smile.

"Hi Hermione!"

I sat down next to him, noticing his plate of baked beans and bacon.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked timidly.

"Oh, I'm fairly good," he said, taking a bite of his breakfast. "I had a right awful time sleeping last night though."

"Me, too," I replied. "I had such a strange dream."

"What was it about?"

I was silent for a moment, trying to remember. "I really don't remember it, but I know it was odd."

"Ah."

Silence for a moment. I looked up at Snape, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I felt a sting of disappointment.

I looked back at Neville and put my hand on his.

"Hey…" I started. He had looked down at our hands, eyes widening. "I just want you to know…I'm here for you. You know, if you ever need to talk."

"Oh – um, well…th-thank you, Hermione," Neville stuttered. I was fairly confused as to why he was reacting this way, but then I realized with a start that it had to do with my hand on his. I took my hand and put it in my lap.

"No problem," I said. I looked at Snape and realized he was watching the both of us, eyes narrowed, his mouth in a very rigid frown.

* * *

**To be continued.**

_Reviews are appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing._


	11. Charmed

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. (:

**Author****'****s Note: **Thanks for the reviews. (: Tell all your friends! It's strange to be writing after not doing it for so long! I keep wanting to put "lol" and "idk". It's pretty sad.

**

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Chapter Eleven -****_Charmed  


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I spent the remainder of my day studying in the library, as usual, while the rest of my classmates were enjoying the rest of their day off playing Wizards' Chess and gossiping. To be quite honest, I have never been one to want to join in on idle activity. Although I do like a game of chess every now and then, I certainly cannot sit around to let my brain to rot while I could be doing something useful with it._**

However, I couldn't stop thinking about that night's detention no matter how hard I tried to focus on Runes. Snape had left the Great Hall shortly after I had seen the frown on his face – swiftly and quickly, his robes billowing behind him like some sort of dramatic bat. Neville was oblivious to my reaction of this. I believe that Neville is oblivious to a lot of things.

Something inside of me stung, hard and cruel, and I couldn't figure out what exactly it was that hurt. I did indeed feel a strong and uncomfortable desire to reenact the previous night's activities, and I couldn't for the life of me even begin to tell you why. Snape was _not_ the type of person you would want to kiss. Even more so, he was not the type of person to kiss one of his students. I wanted to cry from the frustration I felt.

The library was so quiet. I glanced around at the very few other people who cared about their grades, noses in books and writing essays. I relished in the silence, willing myself not to think about Snape or detention or kisses – although I was of course quite unsuccessful.

Telling Ron and Harry was absolutely out of the question. As a matter of fact, telling _anybody_ was out of the question. If the wrong person found out about this, Snape could lose his job, or worse. And I most certainly do not want to cause something like that.

I vowed to keep quiet about this, until I could face Snape himself.

* * *

"You seem nervous, 'Mione. What's up?"

I startled at the sudden sound of Ron's voice and looked up from my book. I was sitting in the common room waiting for it to be the proper time for me to leave for my detention.

"Oh! Nothing at all, I'm just feeling...a bit restless, you know," I offered lamely, noting my face was probably turning an extreme shade of pink. I was such an awful liar.

"I guess that's what happens when you coop yourself in the library for four hours instead of hanging out with us," Ron said with a lopsided grin. "Next weekend, you are forbidden from the library!"

I smiled weakly and rolled my eyes. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was 7:30, an acceptable time for me to begin making my way down to Snape's classroom.

"Well, I'd better get going to detention," I said, feigning a look of disgust.

After saying good-bye to Ron and leaving the common room, I quickly made my way to Snape's classroom, my stomach full of butterflies. I was terribly nervous. I vaguely wondered what Snape would say when I walked through the door. Was he expecting to see me? Would he cast me out the moment I walked in? I was quite sure what I wanted was for our kiss to happen again, although this terrified me in a way Voldemort never has. Why should I want such dangerous things?

By the time I reached Snape's door, my stomach was hot and my hands had lost their feeling. I forced myself to walk into the room.

Snape was seated, as usual, at his desk. He was grading papers from the looks of it, and didn't even look up when I closed the door. I began to make my way to him, carefully, as if not to make a sound. The room was dim, the only source of light being some candles floating above Snape's head.

When I finally reached his desk, I stopped and watched him. He still did not acknowledge my presence. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke, causing me to jump slightly.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"

My first instinct was to look down in shame, as if he had caught me doing something that I should not have been doing.

"It's almost 8 o'clock," I replied. "I'm here for my detention, sir."

Finally, he looked up at me, put his quill down, and crossed his arms. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"I am in an extremely awkward position, as I'm sure you realize," he began, slowly. "The easiest way to solve this is to forget about these detentions and consider your lesson learned."

Although I cannot quite say that I was shocked by this, I was still extremely disappointed. And I felt quite awkward myself. How does a student go about trying to convince her professor to give her detention?

"Sir..." I began, not even entirely sure what I wanted to say. I was struggling for words. "What...happened last night, exactly?"

Snape looked away from me, at the door. He then stood up, ensured that his robes were in place properly, and walked to a bookshelf.

"This conversation is entirely inappropriate. What happened between us was astronomically inappropriate. I cannot begin to tell you how much I regret my actions." He paused. "But they indeed did happen." He sighed.

"But I kissed you back," I said softly.

He turned around and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

"Do not attempt to fool me into thinking that you wanted that. It was a disgusting act on my part. You're barely an adult, and you're my student. I've given much thought on this, and my mind is made up." Before I had a chance to truly ask him what he meant, he turned around, and walked toward me. My heart began to beat faster and faster as he came closer.

He was close enough to touch me. I longed for it tremendously. He touched my hair, my face. And he kissed me again.

He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me as close to his body as he possibly could. I responded by pushing into him, putting my arms around him, and kissing him back with as much intensity as I could muster. I had never experienced this kind of need. It was as terrifying as last time, but even better.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss, and looked at me with such remorse I almost felt guilty for what we had done. He reached into his pocket for something and I realized it was his wand.

My curiosity would never be satiated, because he pointed his wand at me and said, "_Obliviate_."

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**Reviews are appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing.**

_Interested yet? (:_


	12. Ruined

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN: **I have decided to continue this story…and I'm super glad I wrote this chapter. Writing from Snape's point of view is so different from Hermione's…but I really am satisfied with how easily I was able to put what I was thinking down.

And special thanks to **MissVJD** for sending me a PM inquiring about the state of my story and if I was going to finish it. It really inspired me to write again. Thank you! :)

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**Chapter Twelve - _Ruined_**

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My classroom was far too hot for my formal teaching robes.

The dunderheads were attempting to brew Pepper Up Potions, although most of them were not doing a satisfactory job at all. Many of them were chopping the Mandrake Root far too thinly, which was causing the unnatural heat in my classroom.

Slughorn was unable to teach his Potions classes today because of some family business. I wasn't told the details, so I assume it is something the Dark Lord would put to use if he had access to the knowledge.

I sighed and began docking points. A few potions from some of his more…challenged students had to be Vanished because they were close to boiling over. I awarded points only to my Slytherins who managed to brew the potion correctly at this stage.

I would not think of Hermione Granger.

I would not think of what I did to her.

I prayed to the gods that she would not show up for detention tonight. If she did, I would simply have to cancel them. I did not know what caused me to lose all of my willpower. Perhaps being celibate for over two years has taken its toll.

It doesn't matter. She is my student, and I am her teacher. Parents would be outraged if they found out. Albus would be put in a very…delicate situation. The Ministry would surely let me go, without honors and without references, from my post. I would be labeled as a pervert. I would be ruined.

I already am ruined.

I absently grazed my left arm, where the Dark Mark was hidden under my robes. I scanned the room to ensure all of the third years were working and not paying attention to me. My body jolted at a sudden flashback of Granger pulling me close to her, remembering the feel of her body against mine…

"Professor? Sir? I'm done now," said a timid voice, and I heard the clink of a potion sample being set on the desk.

I looked down at the small Hufflepuff, careful my face was devoid of emotion.

"Clean up your work station. Assuming this concoction you have placed on my desk is indeed the Pepper Up, you may work on your homework until class is dismissed."

With a wave of my wand, tonight's assigned homework appeared on the blackboard. After a quick "Yessir," the Hufflepuff left my desk.

I sighed again. Today would be a very long day.

* * *

Being forced to attend the Great Hall for dinner every single bloody day was something I just accepted as one of my duties as a teacher at Hogwarts. But, more recently, it has become a place that truly tested the health my mental state. Granger was always there. Within the past few weeks I have found myself looking in her direction to watch her as she ate, talked, and laughed with her Gryffindor friends. It brought back unpleasant memories of my seventh year – the year I had already decided to join the Dark Lord and had my group of fellow future Death Eater friends.

Tonight was no different. Although I hadn't had her in class today, the distance was still not enough to rid her from my mind. The familiar saying of 'out of sight, out of mind' did not seem to apply here. And while I knew I could put the memories in a Pensieve, something held me back. It was futile to think that the Pensieve would solve my problems. It would dull the memories and the emotions attached to them, but I would still remember what I placed in there. I would probably be too tempted to watch them, over and over again.

As I sat down at my place at the Head Table, I scanned the Great Hall, trying to fool myself into believing that I was only ensuring the students were behaving. My eyes landed on the now familiar bushy-haired girl. She wasn't smiling, or laughing tonight. I noticed she was toying with her food and not really eating at all. She was sitting next to Longbottom, again. He was talking to her quietly, leaned in close to her as if to avoid having other people hear. She had a concerned look on her face, nodding looking as if she were trying to help him with something.

I finally looked away and served myself some dinner. After a few bites of the roast beef, though, I found myself looking at the Gryffindor table once more, wondering what Granger and Longbottom could possibly be talking about.

I sighed in frustration. Why, why was I doing this? I had no concern at all about the petty problems of my seventh year students. Especially the Gryffindors. From the looks of it, my memory charm worked, because Granger didn't look up at me at all the entire meal, except when she got up to leave the hall. She cast me a quick and timid glance, but I couldn't tell why. I was absolutely positive I had wiped all memories of the kisses, and that horribly inappropriate conversation of fascination with each other, from her mind. My skills with Legilimency had made that quite clear. However, no magic that I was willing to do would be able to get rid of whatever feelings she may or may not have for me. Perhaps she had a crush. It was not my place to wonder.

But that didn't stop me.

I tried to eat as much as I could and swept out of the Great Hall before anybody could talk to me and made my way down to my classroom. I wasn't in the talking mood. I suppose I never really was anymore. This war was taking a great toll on me, and I spent as much time as I could alone. If I weren't required to be at Hogwarts, I probably would have left a long time ago.

I sat down at my desk and began to grade the horribly tall stack of essays I assigned to the sixth years. It was quite calming for my mind, which up until this point was positively reeling. After about two hours, I heard a knock on the door, and I groaned inwardly, because I knew exactly who it was.

"Enter," I said curtly, hoping to set the mood before she even saw my face.

And, without fail, she was here again. 8 o'clock sharp.

"I'm here for my detention, Professor," I heard Granger say, her voice getting louder as she approached my desk. My body stiffened as I became aware of her scent carrying through the air – the pumpkin spice and cinnamon that was becoming quite familiar to me. I refused to look at her. It would only lead somewhere very bad.

I took a breath and said what I had told myself I would say.

"Your detentions are, as of now, through," I said shortly. I continued looking over the essay, or at least putting up the appearance that that was what I was doing. I could almost feel her surprise.

"Oh! But…why, sir?"

She said this very quietly, and although I felt no annoyance by her question as I typically would by any other student, I had an act to maintain.

"The insufferable know-it-all has yet another question," I said snidely. I chanced a glance at her and saw the hurt. I smirked. "I simply don't have the time I anticipated for them anymore. I have other obligations, and I believe you have learned your lesson." I narrowed my eyes to appear more menacing, looked straight at her, and said in the most dangerous voice I could muster, "Now get out of my sight."

Granger looked like she had something else to say, but wisely decided against it. She turned on her heel, left the room, and thankfully did not slam the door shut.

I exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding, and held my face in my hands.

What was going on?

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing!_


	13. The Future

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thanks to** MandyJ** and **Winter Fae** for reviewing the last chapter, and thanks to the people who favorited or followed me and this story.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen – **_**The Future  
**_

* * *

I awoke this morning, still curled in the middle of my dream, to find a large brown owl sitting at the edge of my bed.

I struggled to open my eyes – the room was very bright, you see, and it was difficult for me to grow accustomed to it. After a moment, I rose up and inspected the owl further.

It had a note in its beak, and was staring at me with an air of impatience. I didn't recognize the owl at all, but I took the note from it. As soon as I did, it flew away, out of the open window, which I realized was letting in a rather chill breeze.

After closing it, I hastily opened the letter. It was rather odd to be receiving one this early in the morning, and I was quite curious to know what it said.

_Miss Granger –_

_There is an urgent meeting at 6:30 in my office that I would very much like for you to attend. The password is 'Winegums'. Please keep this to yourself, and don't be late._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

My eyes widened with shock. What could this possibly mean? A meeting, with Albus Dumbledore, in his office? One that I had to keep secret?

With a wave of my wand I erased the letter so it looked like nothing more than a blank piece of parchment. Thinking to myself about what this meeting could be about, I began to get ready for my day of class. I could do nothing more until I was in Dumbledore's office at 6:30 tonight, and so I tried as best I could to put it from my mind.

* * *

With N.E.W.T.s being only a few months away, the teachers have begun to rain down rather hard on the Seventh Years. I believe I have heard Ron sputter with indignation at least four times today whenever the teachers bring this up. "_But they're over six months away!_" I have taken to ignore him.

Harry hasn't complained once about the N.E.W.T.s today, which I found awfully strange. Usually, he's right on board with whatever Ron feels about schoolwork – but I don't hold it as much against him because he has so much on his mind. He has voiced to me several times that he feels pretty useless sitting in school when he should be trying to find a way to defeat Voldemort. I really don't know what to say when he brings this up. While I do agree that the constant threat of Voldemort looming over the Wizarding World is very scary, I don't see how Harry skipping the most important year of his magical education could be a good thing at all. I believe that if members of the Order find a sure way to bring Voldemort down, Harry will most certainly be in on it.

But perhaps I'm just being naïve.

For the first time today, I let my thoughts fall upon a certain Professor of mine that has begun to confuse me very much.

I remember clearly my detentions with Snape when they first started. The lines, the scrubbing of desks and floors, cutting my hand, the silence…but the last few aren't so forthcoming in my memories. I remember clearly wishing to ask him a question, any question, just to figure him out. With frustration, I cannot remember how the night before last ended. Or the night before, or the previous one before that. I _knew_ it was there, but I could not retrieve it. Perhaps I was just tired, or my brain was just too logged with all the material I've been studying lately. Maybe I didn't get the courage, and silently wrote my lines or scrubbed his desks, until he told me to leave.

I couldn't think of any other explanation.

Usually, I'm very aware of things happening around me. I don't wander to class, lost in thought, only to find myself forgetting whom I said hello to or not realizing how I got there. I have an excellent memory, if almost seven years of tests, quizzes and essays have anything to say about it.

So why, why couldn't I remember something that happened just one, two, three nights ago?

* * *

After dinner that night, at 6:30 sharp, I found myself the first to arrive at the Headmaster's office. I do not believe I could ever grow tired of the Wizarding portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses lining the walls, or the beautiful sleeping form of Fawkes.

I was watching the portrait of Ambrose Swott dozing when I heard movement behind me.

It was Professor Snape, which I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised about. I began to feel very nervous indeed, and started to wonder if this meeting was about my detentions and the reason I got them in the first place.

In effort to be polite, I greeted him.

"Hello, Professor."

His expression was unreadable, his near-black eyes glittering in the light. He did not smile, or look at me at all, in fact.

"Miss Granger," he said roughly.

Of course, his response left me feeling incredibly awkward. I wasn't sure what to say, or if I should say anything at all. I wanted very much to know why we were both here in a secret meeting held by Dumbledore, but I was certain that if I asked him, he wouldn't answer me.

So, I remained silent. I watched, warily, as he sat down in a plush purple armchair by the fire. I heard more footsteps by the door and turned to see Professor McGonagall walking toward me, a warm smile on her face.

A sight for sore eyes, really.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you're here," she said to me in greeting. "Come; sit, while we wait for Professor Dumbledore."

I sat down, then, by the fire, across from Snape. He was decidedly looking anywhere but at me and Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem to notice, nor care.

"I hope you're well, Professor Snape," she said. "I haven't seen you much this week."

He chose this moment, naturally, to look at her, but still he did not smile.

"I have had an extra workload. Slughorn chose one of my busiest weeks to take a vacation, leaving his teaching and grading for the rest of his colleagues," he snapped back.

"_Professor_ Slughorn had urgent family business to attend to." McGonagall looked affronted, and sat up straighter. "Surely, you understand."

Snape opened his mouth to respond, looked at me quickly, and then back at McGonagall.

"Surely," he said dangerously.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. This exchange didn't seem meant for my ears and I wasn't entirely sure what they were arguing about. Slughorn was absent, yes, but certainly he had a good reason to be. Professors didn't often miss class unless for emergencies or health reasons.

Of course, Dumbledore chose this moment to enter the office. If he felt the thick, acidic tension in the air, he chose to cheerfully ignore it.

"Ah, everybody is here. Excellent!"

Snape looked at him with such disdain that I couldn't help but wonder if looks really _could_ kill.

"H-hello, Professor Dumbledore," I said timidly.

Dumbledore pulled something out of his robes and held it out in our general direction.

"Lemon drop?"

Snape didn't respond. McGonagall turned him down politely.

"Those are rather bad for your teeth, aren't they?" I said, and immediately turned beet red. _What a stupid thing to say! _

Dumbledore and McGonagall let both laughed at this. "I suppose they are," he admitted. "But I can't seem to resist them." With that, he popped one in his mouth, put the rest away, and sat down next to Snape. "Tea, anybody?"

Everybody stated the affirmative at this, and with a wave of his wand, tea and colorful petit-fours appeared before us on a floating tray. After everyone had their tea to their liking, Dumbledore spoke.

"I suppose you must be wondering why we are all here tonight." It wasn't really a question. "The truth of the matter is this is a meeting about your future after Hogwarts. However, we cannot continue until I am sure you understand how serious this is."

He stopped speaking and looked at me, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle. I sat up straighter, as if it would show that I was ready for anything.

"I trust you heeded my message and did not confide in anybody about this meeting?" Dumbledore asked me.

"I didn't tell anybody," I responded.

"Very good. Then, we shall begin by me asking you what you had in mind for your future."

Dumbledore sat back at this, rested both hands on the arms of his chair, and maintained his somber gaze at me. I was rather taken aback and didn't know the answer to his question for probably the first time in my life.

"Well…honestly, I am not quite sure. I was hoping to base my N.E.W.T.s off of what I chose."

McGonagall looked at me with a kind smile.

"Really, Miss Granger, I don't expect anything less than O's from you in every subject," she stated.

Snape, until this point, was in the background and had not said a word. When he did, I was very surprised at what he said.

"I believe that Miss Granger could do anything she wanted."

Dumbledore and McGonagall gave him approving glances. I blushed terribly for the second time that night. A compliment from Snape to a Gryffindor was unheard of.

"Thank you for that, Severus. Miss Granger, I called you in here tonight mainly to ask you to entertain a notion." Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "After you graduate, I would hate for your brilliant mind to go to waste because of any difficulties you may run into getting a job. Unless you wish to be a shopkeeper or something of that sort, many jobs you will find of the merit you want will be through the Ministry. And everyone in this room knows that Tom Riddle has successfully taken it over."

He let that sink in. The silence in the room was intense. I had given this some thought, of course, but never has anybody said anything to me about it. Being a Muggle-born will make it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to do anything prestigious.

"Also, your alliance with Harry Potter has, and will, make you a target."

This statement made me scared. Within the walls of Hogwarts, with teachers, ghosts, and familiars, I had a level of protection that the real world would not offer me. Out there, though…well, I suppose that would be a different story.

"Professor? What do you suggest I do?"

Snape looked at me for the first time since the meeting began. Of course, I couldn't tell what he was thinking because his expression was completely blank. But, I thought I saw a quick flash of pity in his eyes.

"Well," Dumbledore began. "If you take my suggestion, then you will be as safe as you possibly can be – as safe as you are right now. I don't wish for you to graduate, as intelligent and magically sound as you are, just to go into hiding somewhere in the Muggle world. I don't want you to struggle. I suggest you simply stay here, at Hogwarts, and teach. There will be several openings in the next couple of years. As early as next year, Slughorn will retire and Professor Snape will be resuming his Potions post. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is, unfortunately, still cursed, but we pray that by this time next year, we will have a more conclusive outlook on the future."

I was stunned. Me? Teach? I had never seriously considered it. Ron often jokes that I should be a teacher, what with how much I help them with homework and assist Neville with some of his studies. But teaching, grading, lesson plans and…detentions? That was an entirely different story.

"You do not have to make a decision right now. I cannot force you to do anything. Professor McGonagall, as your Head of House, will be there for you for guidance if you have any questions before you decide. Professor Snape has agreed to answer any questions you may have as well. As both of them are in the Order of the Phoenix, they are involved in the war and offer you assurance of protection after you graduate, no matter what you choose. Although it would be a lot easier on them if you stayed here," Dumbledore finished with a chuckle.

"This is a lot to take in," I admitted. I looked between Dumbledore and Snape, and then looked at McGonagall. "I thank you both very much for offering protection, although I have to wonder how much I'll really need it. Am I that much of a target?"

Snape closed his eyes as if he didn't want to talk about this, and I saw him rub his left forearm, where his Dark Mark must be. Dumbledore sighed.

"Alas, the conversation has taken its course into more complicated matters," he said sadly. "This is truly where your confidence is most important. Are we still in agreement of this?"

I was confused. "Yes, completely."

"Very well then. Severus, I believe it is your turn to talk."

Snape opened his eyes. "I suppose that it is," he said slowly. He looked at me, and for the first time tonight, it was as if he was actually seeing me.

"Miss Granger, I know you know that I am a Death Eater." He said _Death Eater_ as if it were a horrible swear word. "And you also know that I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix. So, it is assumed that you are intelligent enough to know that I am a spy for both the Dark Lord and Albus."

He stopped speaking and simply looked at me, as if to let it sink in or gauge my reaction. And although my heart had quickened and I was feeling slightly nervous, I tried very hard not to let it show on my face.

"Yes, sir."

"Although I do admit at one time I was truly loyal to the Dark Lord, that time was long ago, and I now wish to see him taken down as much as you, Potter, or anybody else loyal to our cause does. It is not your concern what transpired to cause this change in my loyalties. The only thing I am going to tell you is that because of this role I must play, I go before the Dark Lord and I have to give him certain information to satiate him. Your safety is our concern because he often inquires about you and what you plan on doing after graduation. He and some other Death Eaters have plans for you that are none of your concern either, because I and the Order of the Phoenix will ensure they never happen. If you should accept a teaching job here at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord will find out through me and will more than likely put you on the back-burner. This is our hope."

My eyes widened as Snape spoke. I stood up and looked into the fire, simply to avoid them seeing my shell-shocked face. If anything could convince me to stay at Hogwarts, this was certainly it. I had never considered that I would be so important to Voldemort and his followers. And I was suddenly very afraid of leaving the castle walls at all. My blood ran cold, and I suddenly felt very dizzy.

Just as I opened my mouth to say that I suddenly wasn't feeling very well at all, the world went black.

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_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing!_


	14. Gone

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN: **Thanks to **MandyJ** and **Stephaim Fan** for reviewing the last chapter. And thanks to everyone else who favorited and/or followed. :)

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen - _Gone_**

* * *

I opened my eyes to find myself in the Hospital Wing.

My head hurt terribly, and I was only vaguely aware that I wasn't alone. The whiteness of the room burned my eyes and I closed them again.

"Hermione?"

It wasn't Harry, or Ron who said this. I couldn't quite place the voice, so I once again opened my eyes and saw the worried face of Neville.

"Hi," I said meekly.

His face broke into a relieved smile. "I'm glad you're awake. I was worried."

I sat up in bed. Once I had, I looked over at Neville again.

"Thanks for being here," I said.

"It's no problem, really. Harry and Ron were here but Harry got called away and Ron's in class now. It's my free period; I just wanted to see how you were doing. They said you fainted."

Oh, yes. The horrible news from last night sank in again. I tried very hard not to think about it.

"Why was Harry called away?" I asked.

"I donno. We were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and an owl landed right on Snape's shoulder. It was actually pretty funny, but the look on his face made the ones who were brave enough to laugh to shut up. He read the letter and yelled at Harry to go to Dumbledore's office."

I was quite taken aback by this news, as Dumbledore had barely spoken to Harry (if at all) all year. I was burning to know more, but I knew that Neville had no more information than what he had already told me.

At this moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled into view, waving her wand over me to do a diagnosis.

"It looks as if you're fine, Miss Granger," she said.

I was rather embarrassed. The Hospital Wing was for sick or broken people. I was neither and had simply fainted. There was no need for all the fuss.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, that you had to deal with me just because I fainted."

She made a _tut _noise and crossed her arms. "Miss Granger, it's really no trouble. Usually when one faints they wake up in a short period of time. You did not. It was as if whatever happened, your mind was trying to forget it the only way it could. It was worrisome, I admit, but we just wanted to ensure your safety."

Again, the staff of this school worried for my safety. Ensuring my safety. When was I going to stop being considered so delicate? I knew there was danger beyond the walls, but I felt extremely frustrated that everybody was so worried about me.

Choosing not to say this, especially in front of Neville, I only said, "Thank you very much."

"Well, I daresay you're free to go, lunch will be soon. It's almost noon, and I suggest you eat," she replied, and with a nod, she left my bedside.

Neville was looking at me expectantly, with a tentative smile on his face. I took a moment to regard him as I had never before. He had really grown up over the past couple of years. He was no longer chubby, and his face had narrowed and matured. I suppose this is what happens when you aren't paying attention. Everything changes.

I got out of bed and the two of us walked together to lunch. Ron wasn't there yet, so Neville and I sat together and began dishing up our plates.

"Are you sure you're completely fine?" Neville asked me, not touching his food.

I smiled. "I'm feeling alright. Please don't worry so much about me," I responded, and was very surprised to feel the touch of his hand over mine.

He leaned in closer and said quietly, "It's just…I care about you, Hermione. When I heard you were in the Hospital Wing, I couldn't think of anything else. If you want to talk about what happened, I'm here for you."

I was extremely touched by this, and once again regarded him closely. His hazel eyes had much more depth than I had ever noticed. He kept his brown hair short and it made him look older. I reached out by a sudden desire to touch his arm and squeeze.

"Thank you, Neville."

I didn't know what else to say. Looking at him like that had unsettled my emotions, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of them. I felt warmed by having him next to me.

"If you're feeling up to it, d'you think you could help me with my Charms homework? I'm having a hard time figuring it out," Neville said, looking at me sheepishly.

I smiled and nodded. "Of course, Neville."

We continued lunch, playfully going back and forth, and I was starting to feel like I was getting to know him for the first time. I didn't even wonder why Harry and Ron never joined us for lunch.

I only noticed Snape looking at me when I got up to leave, his eyes seemingly following Neville and I out the door.

* * *

Neville walked with me to the Common Room so I could grab my things for this afternoon's classes. He promised to fill me in on the DADA and Herbology classes I missed. When we entered the Common Room, it was to find Ron sitting in front of the fire, his face stark-white.

"Ron!" I said, not sure what to make of this. I had a dreadful feeling that something was wrong.

He didn't answer at first; he only nodded to show that he heard me. I looked at Neville who appeared as confused as I was. I approached Ron and sat next to him.

It was a moment before he spoke. "Harry is gone," he said, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. "Gone, 'Mione."

"Gone? Where? What do you mean?" I asked hurriedly. My heart was beginning to thump madly in my chest.

"I donno. They won't tell me. He was summoned to Dumbledore's office this morning, and never came back. I went to find Dumbledore and he told me Harry left and wouldn't be returning anytime soon."

Neville had come closer as Ron was speaking, and sat down at my feet, looking at Ron with a shocked expression.

"Where d'you think he went?" Neville asked.

Ron shook his head. "I really donno. It has to be something to do with You-Know-Who, though. I'm sure of it." His fists clenched and he slammed them down on the loveseat, growling in frustration, and he began to shout. "But I should've gone with him! I need to be a part of this! _We talked about this!"_

I didn't know what to say. Ron was obviously very distressed and all I could do was pat his arm. "Ronald, maybe he didn't have a choice."

I was trying to put the fact that they had discussed any of this without me in the back of my mind, although I felt very hurt indeed. Were they planning on leaving school, without me? To leave me here and wonder?

Ron looked at me, then down at Neville. "You're going to be late to class," he mumbled. "Better go. I wanna be left alone." With that, he got up and stalked to the boys' dormitory.

I could only sit there in shock. Neville didn't seem to have much to say, either.

"What the hell are we going to do now?" I mumbled aloud.

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_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing!_


	15. Courage

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thanks to **StephanoStarKid** and **Carondoiel** for reviewing. As you left no way for me to reply back, being guests, I couldn't reply personally to your reviews.

** Just so everyone knows,** I wrote that first author's note almost seven years ago, and I am_ very_ aware Hermione is older than most everyone else in her year. People were super quick to point that out when I first published the story, and have continued to do so over the years. I don't think it's a huge deal that I said that, because up until the movies and webchats and fansites came out, nobody even know birthdates of certain characters anyway... I just haven't gotten around to changing it, but I suppose I might as well.

Anyway, I'm glad people are reading and reviewing, it's always nice to know what people think. I have a very good story planned out, and have had it stored in my mind for seven years since I started writing this. I apologize for the huge gap between some of the chapters, but life happens and honestly, being 23 and not 16 is going to make this story even better than I originally imagined. Some things you can't gain until you live them, I suppose.

Sorry about that long AN! Hope you enjoy the chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen - _Courage_**

* * *

Hogwarts without Harry was just not the same.

His absence caused quite a stir with most of the students. The seats he usually occupied in his classes remained empty, as if the students hoped one day they would walk in and he would be back as if he had never left. Ron had taken to not speaking much and withdrawing into himself – as Harry had done earlier in the year. It was November, and the days were becoming colder and colder, much like the feeling of Harry's departure. Cold, and dark.

Ron wouldn't sit next to me most days anymore. He found a seat in the back of every classroom and refused to speak to anybody. Neville now sat next to me in the classes we shared, and although I welcomed his friendship and attention, it still wasn't the same as Ron being there.

But, I supposed, nothing would ever be the same again.

Of course, I tried talking to Ron. He gave me fake smiles and one-worded replies mostly. Although I didn't speak to her much, I could tell that Lavender was incredibly frustrated with the way Ron was acting. She even came to me a couple of times to ask what she should do. I was as helpless as her when it came to this. It was like Harry took a piece of Ron when he left. I wanted very badly to write to Harry, but where would I send the letter?

After a few weeks of this, I became less sad and more angry. Ron was acting like a child. This was a war, dammit. Not a game. Harry didn't leave by himself because he wanted to. Of that I was sure. This was a time when Ron and I needed each other the most, and he was casting me aside because of how _he _felt, completely disregarding _me_ and the way that _I_ felt.

_Well, he can just keep doing what he's doing,_ I thought viciously on my way to breakfast one morning. _I don't give a damn._ I quickly chastised myself. Of course I gave a damn, but it was quite apparent that caring was going to get me nowhere in this situation.

And so I sat down in the Great Hall, next to Neville, to eat my breakfast. His welcoming smile made me feel just a little bit better about it all.

* * *

After dinner that night, I decided to take Professor McGonagall up on her offer of answering questions I might have, even though this one didn't fall into the category they originally intended. Telling Neville that I had to go speak to a teacher about some homework, I left the Common Room and made my way down to her office. I wasn't entirely sure how I would ask her, but I figured that cutting to the chase was probably the easiest way to get my answer.

Arriving to her office door, I rapped quickly on it, but I didn't receive an answer. I knocked again, but still, no answer.

I was standing in front of her door like an idiot, not sure what to do. I turned and looked out the window in the hall, seeing snowflakes hit the window panes. The first snow of the year.

Dumbledore had said that Snape would be willing to answer my questions, too, but the thought of going to him was terrifying. However, my need to know what was going on was far greater than any fear I had of the formidable professor. After mulling this over, I made my way down to Snape's office before I could change my mind. As long as I kept my resign, I couldn't possibly get into any trouble with him. I felt my face heat up at the memory of me yelling at him at the beginning of the school year, landing me in a month's worth of detentions that he had suddenly cut short with hardly any explanation. I was more nervous than I thought I would be when I arrived at his door.

With a shaking hand, I knocked quietly, almost wishing it was too soft to be heard.

"Enter," Snape said from within. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and gathered all of my Gryffindor courage to open the door and go inside.

If Snape was surprised to see me, he did an excellent job hiding it. He simply raised an eyebrow at my presence and put his quill down. He stretched his hand out as if it was hurting him. Well, I suppose that if I spent countless hours every night writing horrible remarks all over every essay my students handed into me, my hand would probably hurt too.

"What do you want? Surely you aren't here for homework help?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"No, Professor," I replied, willing myself not to look at my feet. I didn't want to show any sign of weakness in front of him. "I came here to ask you something, because Professor McGonagall was not in her office, and I didn't want to bother Professor Dumbledore."

For the first time I wondered if Snape actually agreed to talk to me to begin with or if Dumbledore made him. From the look on his face, I was sure it was the latter.

"Spit it out, then."

"Sir," I began, not really sure how to ask this. I decided to start off with an explanation. Cutting to the chase was probably not the best tactic where Snape was concerned. "Sir, I'm sure you've noticed many of the students are rather restless since Harry left."

He didn't reply. He simply stared at me.

"And while I know you probably don't care, Ron has become really depressed, he won't talk to me hardly at all, and I just don't know what to do…" My voice trailed off; my eyes were springing tears. Dammit, why here?

"What's your point, Miss Granger?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"I just…" I swallowed as many times as I could in a row, trying to gain my proper voice back. "I just wondered if you knew anything, or were willing to tell me anything about where Harry went, or when he'll be back, or if…" Silent tears were rolling down my cheeks. I needed to get a grip on myself. Snape probably thought I was being such a silly girl.

Silence. It was thick in the air, but Snape didn't look angry. He looked a little annoyed, but at least he didn't look like he was ready to chuck me out of his office. He stood up and walked over to me, and I suddenly felt nervous again. He drew something out of his robes and I feared it was his wand, but he held his hand out to me. He was giving me a handkerchief.

I tried not to look too shocked and accepted it, wiping my face.

"I don't want you leaving my office and finding myself faced with the entirety of Gryffindor house at wandpoint for abusing Potter's friend," he said harshly, but I couldn't help but laugh weakly. I do believe he was trying to be funny. He didn't even dock points when I laughed at him.

After cleaning myself up, I found him looking at me, as if to tell if I would burst into tears again. I have found myself crying in front of him far too much this year. He probably thought me mentally unstable.

"Come, sit at the desk. How do you like your tea?"

My eyes widened with surprise. Snape was asking me to tea?

"Two sugars, black, please," I said shyly. I sat at his desk as he instructed, and with a wave of his wand another floating tray of tea and petit-fours floated in the air. He handed me a cup of steaming tea and took a sip of his own.

"This will not leave my office, Miss Granger, is that clear?"

His tone was deadly serious and I nodded.

Snape sat back in his chair, eyeing me still, and set his tea down.

"I'm afraid I cannot offer you much comfort where your gangly friend is concerned. Weasley was hoping, surely, to go on a wondrous adventure with Potter and return a hero. The staff has noticed his behavior and has decided not to interfere, as of yet. We believe that he will rejoin the rest of his friends, in time."

I nodded again. "I hope you're right, sir."

Snape let out a sharp laugh. "Do not misunderstand. I couldn't care less about Weasley. He's caused me more than an enough problems over the years."

I noticed how very tired Snape looked. The lighting in his office was casting shadows over his face that made him look almost frightening. His black eyes glittered in the candlelight as he regarded my reaction to his response. I tried very hard to appear as emotionless as he did.

Finally, he spoke again. "I am not authorized to give you any answers where Potter is concerned. Until you're graduated and a member of the Order, there are many things you must not know."

I started at this. "How did you know that I wanted -"

"Let's just say that I am very perceptive." He smirked at me, and downed the rest of his tea.

I didn't say anything at this. Tea with Snape was almost pleasant, much to my surprise. He was being almost friendly. I have never seen this side of him before. I decided that since I couldn't get the answers about Harry, perhaps I could get answers about Snape.

"Sir, why did you choose to become a Potions Master?"

He cocked his head to one side, and although I couldn't tell what he was thinking, I knew he was probably surprised at my random question.

"Why are you asking?"

"I don't know, sir," I admitted. "I just wanted to know more about you."

I looked down at my lap. I was blushing again, completely ruining the mature appearance I was trying to maintain. _I shouldn't have said that, _I thought to myself._ I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have –_

"Although it's hardly appropriate for a student to know much of anything about their professor…" He stopped speaking, and I looked up at him, wondering if he would answer me or not. "Potions was my favorite subject. It came as easily to me as memorizing seems to do to you. That's all I'll say. Now, if you have no more questions pertaining to anything of relevance, I have grading to do, and it's getting late. I wouldn't want you to miss out on saying goodnight to Longbottom."

I saw his face pale when he said that. My heart skipped a beat and my belly was doing flip-flops. What in the hell was that supposed to mean? I didn't move, too confused and shocked to really think of much else other than what Snape just said to me.

His eyes narrowed. "Why are you still sitting there? Get out!"

I scrambled out of my chair and without a further word, I left his office and hurriedly made my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

When I entered, Neville waved at me from the loveseat in front of the fireplace. It was as if he were waiting on me. I sat next to him and he placed his hand over mine, his attention completely on me. He blushed and put his hand in his lap quickly afterward.

"How did it go?" he asked.

I decided to lie, to avoid any more questions. I didn't want to think about what just happened in Snape's office, and I didn't think it would be right to tell Neville about it. I had promised to keep it between us, anyway.

"McGonagall wasn't there, so I went to the library to do some reading about my Defense homework," I said.

Neville accepted this, and not knowing why, I put my hand over his. It was very warm. I turned it over in his lap and laced my fingers in his. He looked at me, searchingly, and I smiled.

"Thank you, Neville, for being here for me. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"I…" Neville looked completely lost for words. He looked down at our hands, which were intertwined, and I saw his face color. I knew I was making him nervous, but I couldn't stop myself. I had never felt the need to touch someone as much as I did then.

"I like you, Hermione," he said quietly. He looked at me, timidly, his eyes more green than brown tonight. "I always have."

I didn't know what to say. Was this what I was feeling? Did I like Neville…like that? I had never felt a desire to touch anybody else like this before. I was blushing now, too. I always had an inkling that he had a crush on me, but I didn't know that I had the ability to return the feelings. I looked at his face, realizing how handsome he really was.

"I like you too," I said.

It felt like the world had stopped for a moment. Neville's face broke into such a huge smile; I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Really? I can't believe it!" He squeezed my hand in his lap and reached over and then he kissed me.

It wasn't a snog fest or anything, but it was a nice, warm kiss. I could feel his affection for me radiate down to my toes. I couldn't help but smile while his lips were on mine.

Then I heard catcalls.

"Wooooooooo!"

"Go Neville!"

"It's about time!"

"Get a room!"

If we weren't red before, we were the color of Gryffindor scarlet now. I turned around and saw many of my classmates hovered around us, and I had never felt so embarrassed before. I looked at Neville and we both laughed. Finally, everyone lost interest and went back to what they were doing. I found myself smiling again, feeling as if I truly belonged somewhere for the first time in my life.

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_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing!_


	16. Joan and John

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN: **I don't really have anybody to thank because nobody reviewed the last chapter, which I'm a little offended by. Please, review if you like it. Or if you don't. Or if you're confused, or if you saw it coming, or if you want to read more. It really helps me to know that people are enjoying (or not, heh heh) what I'm writing!

This isn't the longest chapter, but it's really big (did I just give something away?!) and I do hope you'll bear with me, even if it's a little confusing right now. :P

**And Taylor**, I didn't name the guy after You-Know-Who. SO STOP LAUGHING AT ME.

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**Chapter Sixteen - _Joan and John_**

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I could still smell Granger long after she left my office.

I was infuriated. With myself, with her, with everything. I should have told the chit to leave the second she opened her mouth. I should not have invited her to tea. I should not have spoken with her at all.

I was treading on very dangerous territory.

I couldn't just Obliviate her every time I stepped out of line. It wouldn't do at all. She was too smart for it. I already put too much on the line by doing it once. She would figure it out, and all hell would break loose.

I sighed in frustration, not able to get her brown eyes out of my head. When she cried, I wanted to comfort her. When she looked at me and asked me why I decided to become a Potions Master, I almost lost it.

Nobody ever cared about me and the way I felt. _I_ barely cared about the way I felt. I stopped doing things for me a long time ago.

With a flick of my wand, I sent the tea tray back to the kitchens. I stood up, stacked the essays I had been grading neatly, and looked at the time. Any students that were out of bed would be very sorry indeed.

It was my turn to patrol the corridors, although I didn't really mind doing it. Most nights I couldn't sleep very well anyway, especially lately. It gave me a lot of time to think, it was quiet, and usually I never ran into anybody.

Why couldn't I hold my tongue? Granger looked like I had slapped her in the face with my comment about Longbottom. It was such an inappropriate thing to say, but then again, kissing her as my student was even worse. To stay alive, I've had to act and say all the right things. Then Granger walks in my space and I've suddenly lost all my control.

I wondered if she would tell anybody about what I said. I came to the conclusion that she was smarter than that.

I was working myself up. Every time I thought about her, my blood pounded till I could hear it in my ears. She made me so angry, not just because she was disrespectful and constantly toeing the line, but because she made me feel like I had no control over myself. I was rather proud of who I had cultivated myself to become. Cold and distant. Sarcasm to throw people off. It kept people away, and I never got hurt.

I never got loved, either.

I mentally slapped myself. If I were a lesser person, I would be shaking my head and mumbling. I was Severus Snape, and I did not need love. The only person I ever loved was dead, and it was all my fault.

I stopped walking and glanced out the window I was next to. It was snowing.

The first snow.

* * *

Joan was walking as quickly as was ladylike through the cobbled streets to get to the apothecary before sundown.

Her ma had told her she had better hurry, because she refused to do business anywhere else, and the old wizard who owned the shop didn't stay open long after the sun set. And, if she hurried, she would be able to spend some time with John, learning how to jar ingredients and make the different colored inks.

Avoiding potholes and beggars, she quickly made her way to the shop. It was dark and musty inside; the familiar scent made her feel warm and welcome.

"Joan, how pleasant to see you!"

"Master Peter, ma sent me for some supplies for the house," replied Joan, and approached the counter. "She needs ink, paper, a vial of bat blood, two rat spleens, and a bezeor, if you please."

The old man's eyes twinkled; her family and their business were very dear to him. Joan left the counter to gather the ink, paper, and bezeor, while Peter retrieved the others from the back.

"I daresay there's someone here who would like to wish you well," she heard, and her heart quickened because she knew it was John. She turned and smiled at the man who appeared next to Peter, who was grinning rather boyishly back.

"Good evening," John said, and her face colored tremendously.

"Sir John," Joan replied respectfully, and made a small curtsy. As John was pureblood, and she was only half-blood, she was required to treat him with respect.

"I pray that you are well?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I was sent to gather some supplies for ma."

"You haven't visited in quite some time, I was worried you were taking your business elsewhere," he said smoothly. "It brings me joy you have returned."

Joan's face once again broke into a smile.

"If you have time, I would be delighted to show you how to jar bulbadox juice," John said. It was a secret between the three of them that Joan was studying under John. If Joan's ma asked why she took so long at the apothecary, she simply replied that Peter talked too much and she could not find a way out without being rude. Even if they were barely middle class, Joan's ma found manners to be more important than sewing – both of which Joan struggled with.

Her time with John kept her sane. His dark eyes never made her feel like just a half-blood. He listened to what she had to say, and they had many wonderful conversations together. She often wondered why he was not married. It was rumored that he once was, but she had died in a terrible house fire, far up north in Leeds. He had no children. He spent most of his time here or in his grand house brewing potions, he told her. He even invented some himself. John was the smartest man she knew. Joan knew she loved him, but a marriage between them would be impossible. His bloodline was pure, that much she knew. Society would cast him aside and his family would cut ties. That was just how things were. She would be lucky to marry a Muggle-born or half-blood like herself; a middle class merchant or something of that sort.

But still, her heart yearned to be at his side, to hold his arm while walking the streets, or to kiss him.

She blushed at that thought. Being only seventeen and not married, she had never kissed a man before. Her ma had taught her that was only for married or betrothed people to do.

Joan brought herself back to the present and listened to John teach her about bottling the tricky ingredient. She was so fascinated by potions and the ingredients. She wanted very much to try her own potion, but she never had enough time to do so. Her mind reeled at all of the information, and she was entranced by the sound of John's voice. Joan gazed into his eyes, and regarded his features, something she never grew tired of. He was tall, thin, and had fashionably dark hair pulled back with a small bow. His beard was finely trimmed. He had long, graceful fingers that expertly worked. He was also very good with magic and knew many spells she did not. Being pureblood, he had access to many wonderful books that taught him so much more than she could ever hope to learn.

Her heart yearned for more knowledge. Her ma had taught her basic spells passed down through the family – cleaning and cooking, vanishing and lifting. Most of them were simple charms and Joan mastered them when she was barely twelve. Sometimes John taught her new magic, if she asked, but it frustrated her greatly to learn new magic she couldn't use at home.

When she could stay no longer without her ma believing her to be lying with her usual excuse, Joan left to go with a heavy heart. She never knew when she would be able to return, and her time apart from John was almost too painful to bear. She looked upon his face once more; he was so very handsome, and had so much magical knowledge. She wanted so much to throw herself before his feet and confess her love.

But she couldn't. There could not possibly be any future between them. Their bloodlines separated them.

That was just how things were.

* * *

I awoke with a start and sat up in bed. My room was pitch-black, being in the dungeons with no window, and I lit my wand and waved it around.

I do not know what I expected to see. My brow furrowed at the strange dream I had awoken so abruptly from. It was often the same: The girl, running to the shop. The shopkeeper and another man. The man showing her how to bottle ingredients. What was even more strange than the dream itself was that I was not anybody in this dream; I was simply floating above, watching it as it happened.

_You're just sleep-deprived old man,_ I thought to myself. _You're bound to have odd dreams when you're under so much stress._

With that, I lay back down and closed my eyes, forgetting to _Nox_ my wandlight. I was only half-aware of the light growing dimmer and dimmer as I fell back asleep.

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_Reviews are appreciated. Seriously! Let me know how I'm doing._


	17. Saturday Morning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN: **Thanks to **Jally**, **Zigflorian**, and **Musicmaker43** for reviewing the last chapter (and some of the others, too!) Thanks for the favorites and follows as well. Please bear with me - I'm sure my newer readers can notice an abrupt change in my writing style in the more recent chapters compared to the older ones, which is to be expected considering how many years ago I started this thing...

I am rather proud of this chapter, though, and I hope you enjoy it, and I hope my readers remain patient :)

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**Chapter Seventeen - _Saturday Morning_**

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I woke the next morning and found myself drawn to the window. Since Harry's departure, it had become a habit to wake before the sun rose. I suppose with his absence, I couldn't quite let myself sleep soundly, knowing he was out there doing some Certainly Dangerous Thing that nobody saw fit to enlighten me about. It felt wrong to be snoozing warm and comfortably in my bed when I didn't even know if he was even alive anymore.

I started. Harry _was_ alive, and I should _not_ be thinking things like that.

But…too much felt wrong. The threat was too real now.

This morning I was lucky enough to catch the last bit of the sunrise creeping over the trees of the Forbidden Forest: A burst of light; a discharge of orange.

I couldn't help but be taken aback by the beauty of the landscape. I scanned over the pure vastness of the Forest, snow settled on top of the reaching pines. The Great Lake twinkled in the early sun. The snow by now was at least a foot deep. I smiled to myself. Some of my fondest memories of Hogwarts are of this. The quietness of the morning. The stillness of the white blanket stretched far and wide – as far as the eye could see.

It was Saturday, and after feeling my stomach scream in protest, decided it was high time to make myself decent and grab a bite to eat.

* * *

Upon descending the stairs to the Common Room, I found it empty; as well it should be at this ungodly hour on a Saturday morning. I was prepared to go to the Great Hall by myself when I heard my name.

"Hermione."

I turned around and saw Neville, whom had apparently been hidden in a corner by the window reading a book. The sight of him made my heart flutter. His kind face broke into a warm smile – the smile I noticed he reserved especially for me. Neville got up and came over to me, his book forgotten on the windowsill. He had abandoned his school robes today, at least for breakfast. He was dressed in casual Muggle attire: slacks and a blue sweatshirt. I couldn't help but stare at him as I had never before. I had never been so _aware_ of him. My eyes swept over his neck and the shadows his jaw line cast over it. Then down to his chest, where his heart was surely beating. Then up to his eyes, alight with the simple joy of seeing me.

"Good morning," I replied, not entirely sure what to say. His presence had caused quite a stir within me. I had to remind myself to breathe. "I didn't see you there."

He didn't seem entirely sure what to do. I saw his hesitation, and then he kissed me softly on the cheek, his lips warm and comforting on my skin. I saw his face color, and I realized my breath hitched. Neville's blush was like the sunrise: The hope of light after a long, dark night.

"I was waiting for you," he said timidly. "I wanted to go to breakfast with you."

"Well, let's go, I'm starving," I replied, and before I could turn to leave with him, he held out his hand, his eyes searching mine. I took it, relishing the feeling. I interlaced my fingers with his and we walked together to the Great Hall.

There was no need to talk. The warmth of his hand in mine said everything.

* * *

There were very few students this early at breakfast, and not very many looked up at us as we walked in, hand-in-hand. I didn't feel embarrassed, no, but I would rather not deal with any unwarranted comments or jeers this early in the morning. I scanned the teachers' table and saw Professors McGonagall and Snape looking at us. McGonagall looked mildly amused. Snape had no expression at all, but his eyes were narrowed.

He must have realized I was looking at him because he sneered and looked away quickly, down at his plate. I took my hand out of Neville's and sat down.

I was ravenous just fifteen minutes ago, but after seeing Snape, I had suddenly lost my appetite.

The memory of the meeting in his office just last night still garnered emotions within me that I couldn't quite place. Nothing about that brooding man seemed to add up. He was a mass of darkness and difficulties – the very opposite of Neville, in fact. Where Neville's blush was like that hopeful sunrise…Snape's sneer was the promise of a winter's night: Frigid and numbing.

I began dishing myself up and chatting with Neville about this week's schoolwork to distract myself from Snape. For however much Neville had struggled with school in the past, this year he seemed to seriously put his mind to it and was doing rather well, with very minimum help from me or anybody else for that matter. Perhaps his talent in magic was there all along but oppressed or hiding. Maybe it was waiting for the right moment.

Before I realized what was happening, and owl was perched on my shoulder with a letter. Neville was looking at it curiously, and I took it hastily from it, and then gave it a piece of toast before it flew off. It was early, much too early for the post yet, and I was worried it was another summons to discuss my "future". I really did not want to end up in the Hospital Wing again.

I opened the parchment and my eyes widened in shock. I took a glance around the Hall, glad it was still fairly empty. I looked down at the paper again.

_Hermione –_

_I hope you're doing well._

_I am writing this in a bit of haste. I can't say much, except that I am well, and I miss you and Ron terribly. _

_Please don't be mad at me, because I didn't have a choice. _

_I'm sending something to Ron too. I have a feeling he took this rather harshly. You'll both know soon enough. Please look after each other._

_You probably can't reply to this, since owls probably can't find me. Just know that I am okay and I can't wait to see you both again._

_Love, Harry_

Before I knew what was happening, my vision was blurred with tears. I didn't want to do this here, in the Great Hall, so I discreetly pulled on Neville's shirtsleeve lightly and got up to leave. He thankfully got the hint and followed me out. I walked quickly, out the front doors, into the dazzling morning sun.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Neville asked, and never have I felt more comforted by the sound of his Northern baritone.

I handed him the letter, silent tears rolling down my face. I couldn't stop them. I wanted so very much to be strong, the unbroken one, the smart one. I realized with a pang in the bottom of my heart that I had been none of those things this school year. I left Harry to rot by the window for a month in the Common Room before I had any sense to pull him out, I had ruined my reputation with one of the most formidable professors in the school, I had proven myself very weak by fainting at the slightest prospect of danger in front of the Headmaster…the list rolls on and on, really. And now, Harry wants me and Ron to stick together, well, he doesn't realize how far off the deep end Ron's really gone.

It only takes Neville a moment to read it, as it is very short and blunt, and he nodded. There's something about this nod that I cannot name – perhaps it is the subtlety in it that is so very _Neville_ – but it immediately makes me feel better about it all. His cheeks were pink with cold, and I realize at that moment that he is without a cloak or anything over his clothes to keep him warm. I myself was starting to shiver; my ears and nose were stinging. I pulled out my wand and cast warming charms over the both of us, and Neville smiled a little.

"I would hate to see your tears freeze," he says quietly, stepping forward. He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs. This gesture was so intimate – so much more than our kiss last night – and my eyes meet his shyly. In the overwhelming sunlight, his eyes are pale green, with flecks of brown. I can see five freckles on his nose.

I became acutely aware of the gap between us, and I was longing to close it, but I was frightened to do so and I didn't know why.

"Hermione, it's going to be okay," Neville said, his hands going through my hair. I closed my eyes, willing to believe him. Willing to believe that there was nothing else in the world but the two of us.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," he all but whispered. I opened my eyes, his gaze nervous and worshipful, as if wondering if I were a real thing or just a daydream he didn't want to wake up from. I stood on tiptoes and leaned forward to kiss his cheek for the second time that day. I saw his mouth part slightly. I knew he wanted to close that gap, too.

I suddenly wasn't afraid anymore. I pulled him close to me, his body very warm, mostly in part from my warming charm. I lightly put my hand on his cheek and turned his face slightly, to a better angle for my mouth to meet his. His lips were only slightly cold before I warmed them, and I was only faintly aware of his slight shiver as he wrapped his arms around me tightly, as if I would disappear spontaneously into the November morning, to become a speck of cloud in the sky.

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	18. The Fight and More Realizations

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thanks to **Musicmaker43** for reviewing. :)

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Enjoy the chapter!

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**Chapter Eighteen - _The Fight and More Realizations_**

* * *

"Well, if it isn't the happy couple."

_I knew that voice._

I turned around and saw the pointy-faced sneer ruining Draco Malfoy's aristocratic face. I narrowed my eyes and wanted very much to retort, but Neville squeezed my hand that he was holding and I thought better of it. Trying to insult Malfoy was almost a wasted effort – once you said a word with too many syllables, it went over his head, even if he understood your tone of voice. And where was the fun in that?

But sometimes, your tone of voice is all that is needed.

_Not this time,_ I chided myself. _Not after Harry's letter – you're going to end up hexing him and he'll end up hanging from the ceiling and you'll have a lot to answer for and you just don't need it – _

"Have nothing to say, Granger? Honestly, I'm more surprised at _you_, Longbottom…a Pureblood mucking up what little reputation he has with a Mudblood."

Crabbe and Goyle jeered at this, their crude faces contorted into what they probably thought was pure glee – but it only ended up making them look like something alien, something mutated, or maybe something terribly evil.

I was abruptly aware of the warmth leaving my hand. My eyes darted from Malfoy and his henchmen to Neville, whose face had gone from his usual expression of distant ease to something much different: Disgust, and what I couldn't describe as anything other than ravaging hatred. He hadn't reached for his wand, which was a Very Good Thing Indeed, because if Malfoy saw him do that…well, this could turn alarmingly violent.

"Aw, Longbottom, what's the matter? Did I offend you?"

Neville opened his mouth to speak, but he was either unable to say anything or was thinking better of what he wanted to say…I couldn't tell.

"Neville…"I said quietly. "Really, it's okay…let's just get out of here…"

"No, Hermione, this pathetic excuse for a wizard needs to be put in his place." Neville's voice was strong, unwavering, and alarmingly loud. His soft Northern accent was gone, replaced by hard defiance.

"Excuse me? Do you even know who you're talking to?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed, his smug look wiped off his face. He looked angry, and he reached into his robes for most assuredly his wand.

"You don't know who _you're_ talking to, Malfoy." I had never heard Neville use that tone of voice. Ever. I couldn't believe Malfoy didn't see the danger in it – Neville wasn't putting up with his bullying anymore, and no matter what Malfoy threw at him, I was most certain Neville could throw it back. Tenfold.

Neville had his wand out, too. I didn't see him grab it at all. I was about to witness a Pureblood duel, Merlin help me, and someone was going to end up hurt.

"Stop it, you two!" I shouted suddenly. They both broke eye contact and looked at me. "This is going to get us nowhere except the Hospital Wing and detention. Please, Neville," I added softly. Malfoy snorted.

"Insufferable swot. Who the hell do you think you are? Dirty Mudblood, _you don't belong here_."

His voice was all venom. These weren't second year remarks about things you only heard when your parents thought you were asleep. (Or, in his case, probably straight to his face from the cradle onward). No, these were the beliefs of a full-grown wizard, set in his ways and unable to see any differently. I almost felt sorry for him – his narrow-mindedness was pitiful. I prayed to the gods there would be a day when he would wake up, remorse clouding his dreams, and he would regret what he's said to me.

Before I even knew what was happening, Neville had abandoned all pretense and disarmed Malfoy's wand silently. I stared at him in awe, and in the next split second, Malfoy was crying out, grabbing his face, and he was on his knees.

"Neville!" I shouted, my hands over my mouth. Neville was breathing heavily, staring at Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle looked gobsmacked; they just stood there, gaping like fish, eyes bulging.

"What did you do to me? What did you do?" Malfoy all but screamed. He wouldn't move his hands from his face. I was frightened at the severity of the situation. It had escalated from zero to sixty so quickly I had no idea what to do.

Before I had any chance to truly inspect the damage, Neville grabbed my hand, and we got out of there as quickly as we could.

* * *

"What did you do to him?" I asked Neville when we found a corner in the Gryffindor Common Room. Most of the House was up by now and had already had their breakfast. Many of the students were talking about bundling up and going outside for a royal snowball fight. The first snow of the year turned out to be on a very ideal day for such a thing.

Neville didn't answer me immediately. He only turned my hand in his and traced the roadways of bones and veins. My hands were so small compared to his – his were strong and blunt and very _male_ – mine were slender and dainty.

"Conjunctivitis Curse," he revealed finally.

My eyes widened at that. Such a painful curse – and it would also explain why Malfoy wouldn't let go of his face. The curse irritated and swelled your eyes shut, rendering it impossible to see and very itchy. A sudden onslaught would disorient anybody. And Neville did all that _nonverbally_?

"I have a feeling Malfoy will tell…" I started.

"Yeah, I suppose he will," Neville said, sighing heavily. "I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't listen to him befoul your name like that. You're not a Mu…Mudblood." His voice wavered slightly, and he looked at me, his eyes full of some unnamable pain. He had said the word _Mudblood _like Snape had said _Death Eater_, as if the word itself could manifest and cause real physical pain; a swear word. Then his voice came out stronger. "You're worth twelve of him."

I smiled weakly. What Neville didn't know is that that insult had stopped bothering me long ago. His heartache on my behalf wasn't necessary.

"You really didn't have to," I said. "That name…it doesn't bother me anymore."

"That's not the point," Neville said harshly. I flinched at the abrupt change of tenor of his voice. He stroked my hand in apology, and then said almost too quietly for me to hear, "That doesn't make it right."

I nodded. Of course it didn't make it _right_. But the politics were too strong to ignore: Malfoy's father was a Death Eater, and I'd rather be called a Mudblood then what else they could do to me.

But the look on Neville's face was resolute and rigid. And all I could do was agree with him.

* * *

I passed much of my Saturday in the library; I needed to hide. I needed to collect myself and try to forget about Malfoy and the trouble Neville and I were surely in. In hindsight, the library wasn't a very _good_ place for me to hide, but at least there I felt safe.

I had several books before me: _Transfigurationne the Olde Way_, _Cristus Crath's Handy Charms_, _Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Rather Solid Approach_. Mostly I was trying to study for N.E.W.T.s, mostly I was trying to forget that Harry was gone and Ron was ignoring me. Mostly.

Books in the magical world were delicious and dense. Wizards hadn't thought of indexes, or they found they had no use for them. It felt quite old-fashioned, flipping through huge books trying to find a specific thing. It also ensured that I would read more than I came for, because I found myself easily distracted where knowledge was concerned.

I was almost certain Malfoy would run to Snape and tell him what happened. I shivered involuntarily. I couldn't stop messing up this year, could I? Even if I hadn't done anything, and had actually tried to stop it, it didn't matter.

Guilty by association.

I wasn't particularly angry with Neville, no. But I do wish he could have held his temper in check. It was exactly what Malfoy wanted. I found myself laughing cynically. No, I don't suppose he wanted _that_, the hex, that is. But he came for a fight, and he got it.

But Snape…

Malfoy's Head of House, and the one whom would surely rain hell upon the two of us. I couldn't bear more detentions with him. He was cold, and crass. He would make things difficult simply because he didn't think much of Neville as a student.

My mind wandered to the end of my detentions with Snape. They were so foggy. No, foggy wasn't the word, because that insinuated that there were some memories, hiding behind a soft cloud, only needing some prodding to come out. No, not foggy at all. All I could see was blackness.

I knit my brow in frustration, unable to concentrate on _Cristus Crath's_. Everything about Snape and his detentions infuriated me, looking back, because he had arranged for the month's worth, and had backed out only halfway through. I was beginning to enjoy the quiet solitude of his presence, and he took it away with no real reason…

I blushed at my own thoughts. What was I thinking? Enjoying his company? There was a name for such absurdities…

Stockholm Syndrome.

I pushed the book back, shaking my head. I was thinking ridiculous thoughts. But my instincts were telling me something was all wrong about this situation. I knew myself. I do not spontaneously forget things that happen to me.

My eyes widened. What if…

What if…Snape had…

Oblivated me?

* * *

_Dun dun dun..._

_Reviews are appreciated. Go on, do it!_


	19. The Dream and Suspicions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thanks to **Julialien**, **OfLoveAndChocolate**, **Musicmaker43**, **Jane**, and **Fraulien Lovegood** for your reviews. :) They really make my day! Thanks to any favorites and follows, too.

I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story. Please keep reading and revewing. I would have had this up sooner, but I got strep and I wasn't really up for writing much... :( Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen - _The Dream and Suspicions_**

* * *

I found it very hard to go to sleep that night.

My mind was so full of suspicion. There was a great deal of things that Snape could have Obliviated me for – if that was in fact what he had done. He was a Death Eater spy. I could have walked in on something I shouldn't have. Maybe he was under order to do so, or maybe I had done something he wanted me to forget. It was futile. No matter what I did, I could not remember.

And so I decided to do some research. Of course, it's laughable – what answers I didn't have, I searched for them in a book – an easy bet. This was one demon that didn't have bounds. When dealing with magic that affects your brain, you teeter on a very thin line indeed. I found it extremely unlikely that someone other than Snape had tampered with my memories. The memories gone were too precise. It was as if someone had cut exactly what they wanted out and left the rest, and I didn't believe there was a student that could have achieved such a feat.

However, Obliviate was not something Hogwarts taught in class, and most of the theory books I wanted were in the Restricted Section. I needed a signed teacher's note to even set foot in there.

I tossed and turned, trying to get a comfortable position that would allow sleep to claim me easier. All of this was so ridiculous. Snape Obliviating his students? I frowned and knit my brow in frustration into the dark canopy of my bed.

"…_I have grading to do, and it's getting late. I wouldn't want you to miss out on saying goodnight to Longbottom."_

I felt my face color at this memory. I knew there was something important here, something I was missing. If Snape were a 17 year old boy I would think this was a bitter comment of jealousy.

Jealousy?

I had to be losing my mind…

* * *

Joan was rushing home, trying desperately to get back before her ma would suspect she was staying late at the apothecary for more than just business. She had no time to admire the glittering lights on the surface of the Thanes, nor could she stop to chat with the butcher's daughter.

She could hear laughter on the other side of her front door, and wondered if she was unaware of a supper party.

"Joan! I was beginning to worry!" her ma yelled out when she closed the door. Joan found the source of the noise in the sitting room; it did indeed look like a supper party.

"Come, have a cup of wine dear girl," her ma said, and Joan made a small curtsy toward the guests. She recognized them: There was Matthew Lupton and his parents, Anne and Nathaniel. They were a very well-off middle class merchant family; Matthew was Joan's age almost exactly and her face colored when she realized exactly what this supper party was for.

Her ma summoned a cup of wine and sent it over to Joan. She took a sip and waited for her ma to speak.

"It is quite an honor for Mister and Missus Lupton to be here tonight," she began, beaming warmly around the room. "They have come with a proposition regarding you and their son, Matthew."

John looked at her hands. She knew it was time to be married, and she shan't wait much longer before marriage calls stopped coming entirely. Nobody ever met her standards, though, but this time she feared her ma would sign a contract for her. Especially since the Luptons were exactly what her family needed.

"Now, Joan, pray have some manners," her ma said with a bit of a hiss. Joan's head snapped up and she looked at her potential husband-to-be.

Matthew was broad-shouldered and strong looking. His hair was curly and a pleasing golden color. Rumor had it he was a Squib – which meant his family would be all too eager to marry him off to a witch in hopes their children would be magical. He didn't look all that bad, though, and he even smirked at her from across the room with an apologetic expression on his face. Her heart warmed at the small gesture.

"…Our Joan is fit with all of our family's house spells, and some gardening spells, too," her ma was saying.

"We of course have our own family spells that we gave to Matthew's sister, and would be delighted to share with young Joan," Anne replied warmly.

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a dowry that you would be used to, but we do have some jewels and some spells that you would find fit. Joan comes from a fertile stock, and I'm quite certain their children will be strong with magic," her ma said proudly. Joan's face colored even more, and she took some more wine.

She wished it was John here, calling for marriage. She had nothing to offer him except her heart, but in her mind that was all that mattered. She was being prized up to marry a stranger, and she felt horrified. Nobody looked at her to ask what she thought, nobody even cared. This was about business and politics, and the hopes of bouncing magical toddlers to strengthen family lines. That was just how things were.

She looked up at Matthew once more and found he was regarding her warily. Perhaps he wasn't certain of this marriage, either. Maybe he wasn't ready to marry at all and was only here because his parents forced him to. Being a Squib, he wouldn't have much option, albeit running away and trying to find his fortune elsewhere. Joan supposed she had the same options herself, but being a woman made things more difficult in this world. She needed a man to secure her place, else she go hungry.

That was just how things were.

* * *

I gasped and sat up. It was still dark, still night. I stilled my breathing and tried to remember what had awoken me so abruptly.

My dream…about me…no, a girl named Joan. And there was a boy…Neville…no, a boy named Matthew. I tried to shake the uneasy feeling away. The details of my dream were slipping out of my hands like water found a crack. I illuminated my wand and scurried to get a quill and parchment and wrote as much as I could remember down.

I remembered the boy's face very clearly, much more clearly than anything else in the dream: His calm, distant expression that looked just like Neville's. The sight of him made my heart warm. At least I wouldn't have to be alone, even in my dreams…

* * *

The next time I awoke, it was bright out. I had the groggy feeling that I had overslept and took a quick bath and dressed in hopes of catching a late breakfast. Neville was not in the Common Room, so I made my way to the Great Hall alone.

The Great Hall was in full swing, almost everyone was there enjoying their breakfasts. I glanced at the High Table and noticed Snape looking in my direction. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. I thought I saw a flicker of some sort of emotion in his eyes.

"Hermione! Glad you could join us!"

I broke eye contact with Snape and joined Neville and Ginny. Neville leaned in and kissed me on the mouth in greeting.

I don't know why I did, but I looked up at Snape as he did this.

He was looking. His fork had stopped midway and _dammit_, he was staring at us. My heart began racing in my chest and I tried very hard to forget about Snape and instead began to eat.

"Have you talked to Ron?" Ginny asked me, her eyes full of concern. I shook my head.

"Every time I try, he just shoves me off," I replied. "How does he even eat? I haven't seen him down here in days."

"I think some house elves have been sending him food in the middle of the night," Neville said.

My eyes widened at that information. I had never heard of house elves sending students food without an order from a teacher. My eyes narrowed again and I looked at Snape, who wasn't looking at me anymore. I sighed and looked down at my plate. I had barely touched any of my food and stabbed my eggs in earnest.

"You alright, Hermione? You look a bit…off."

I looked over at Neville, but instead I saw Matthew, the boy from my dream. I blinked and it was Neville again, but I was becoming annoyed at myself today. Something just didn't feel right.

"I'm fine; I just keep thinking about the N.E.W.T.s and how much I have to catch up on…"

Ginny and Neville let out appreciative laughs. It was so easy to misguide people by telling them I was just worried about studying. I quickly finished as much food as I could and excused myself.

I had quite a lot of reading to catch up on, and a lot of sucking up to do to get the books I needed.

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing!_


	20. Moving Forward

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN: **Thanks to **Julialien**, **makaem**, **Anaralasia**, **Fraulien Lovegood**, and **Musicmaker43** for your reviews! They really make my day.

Alas, the time has come to move this story from **T** to **M**. This chapter teeters on the edge of being too risque for **T** to be safe anymore, and I hope I don't put off any of my readers because of this. And if you were hoping for that all along, well, there you go. ;)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty - _Moving Forward_**

* * *

The weeks progressively got colder and colder.

I was at something of a standstill with the Restricted Section books I wanted to retrieve. I couldn't, in my own mind, think of a plausible excuse for why I wanted them, so I wasn't sure if my wishes would even be granted. Tampering with memories wasn't something Hogwarts taught on its curriculum, and I couldn't say I was preparing for my N.E.W.T.s because there wouldn't be any test questions on it either. With frustration, I had to put that project on hold.

I had little time for extra projects anyway. The amount of homework the teachers were stacking on us was becoming overwhelming. Many Seventh year students were having panic attacks and fainting bouts; the Hospital Wing was kept extremely busy.

I hadn't heard anything else from Harry, either. Ron kept his distance even after he got his letter from Harry. I tried to not let it bother me. I certainly hoped the staff knew what they were doing by letting him go on like this. And I also hoped Ron was taking his N.E.W.T.s seriously.

I also got the impression through some snide remarks that Ron was angry at Neville and me. I couldn't really place it; but I caught wind that Lavender dumped him after being too frustrated to keep trying. Sometimes I would ask him to come study with us, or play chess or anything to get him social again, but he would just grunt and hiss, "_Isn't that what you have Longbottom for?_"

Needless to say, I stopped trying to involve him.

The more time I spent with Neville, the more confident he appeared. His wandwork became more precise; his essays much more fluid. I will never forget the look of absolute happiness warming Neville's face when he figured out the answer to his question on his own.

Oh, and did I forget to mention the kissing?

Every second we could, we found a way to be alone. The only other person I had ever kissed before him was Krum, and even so, _this_ was nothing like _that_. Neville and I learned together. I had never before understood why all the girls around me were so boy-crazy, but I started to see that there was more to their seemingly crazy ramblings. The feel of Neville's lips on mine, his hands through my hair, his body pressed close…it's enough to make me shiver just thinking about it.

I knew next to nothing about male anatomy. I had a general idea, of course, but it wasn't exactly something they taught at Hogwarts. All of this was so new to me. And Neville was such a gentleman. He never had wandering hands or did anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I knew I wanted to go further…but exactly how much further, I wasn't certain. I was a little bit afraid that he would laugh at me, although the more rational part of my brain knew he would never do such a thing. I wanted to find out more about that part of him that grew warm and hard when he was so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck. My body reacted to him in ways that were completely _alien_ to me. I wanted to touch him, I wanted to do things that I had never done before and I barely had any idea what exactly it was I wanted to do.

There had to be someone that could help me.

* * *

There were only a couple weeks left before Christmas break when I received a letter from my parents explaining that they were taking a second honeymoon and would be going on a cruise for the holidays. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I hadn't gotten any word from the Weasleys that they wanted me to be with them for Christmas, and Harry was still missing…

I folded the letter and put it in my messenger bag. I couldn't think too much about this right now. Neville was sitting next to me and I glanced at him and blushed, remembering our excursion from the night before. He and I escaped the crowded Common Room and went to our usual spot in an abandoned classroom not far from the Fat Lady.

I had closed the distance between us, my body warm with anticipation. I nearly shook in his arms as he kissed me. I vaguely remember a sound escaping my mouth unlike any I had ever made before – one of desire. I pushed him against the wall, pressing my body as close as I could, my hips rocking against his; my body was no longer my own. He let out a low moan through the kiss, the sound vibrating all the way down to my toes. Just when I thought he was going to touch the part of me that was desperately wanted to be touched, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine, eyes closed and breathing heavily. He was radiating heat; my entire being was quivering at the abrupt loss of contact.

"Merlin, Hermione," Neville breathed. "What are you doing to me?"

I kissed him again, and then moved down his jaw line and to his neck. I didn't honestly _know_ what I was doing to him; it just felt right. My hands wandered up his chest, down his back…I wanted to touch all of him at once but I didn't know how.

"God," he moaned. "I-I need you."

An overwhelming pool of desire grew in the pit of my belly. It was like a whole other part of me had suddenly woken up from a long slumber. I felt like I needed him, too.

I caught a glimpse of the time, and groaned.

"Dammit, it's past curfew!" I hissed in frustration. "We do _not_ want to be caught like this."

Neville looked disappointed, but nodded. "Yeah – you're right. Let's go back."

Neville was a gentleman, but I suppose he was still a male after all.

* * *

"Hermione! Wait!"

I was walking by myself to the library to cross-check a Potions essay. I stopped and saw Neville walking quickly toward me.

"What's up?" I asked as normally as I could. If last night was any indication, I knew exactly _what was up_. I almost giggled at my bawdy thoughts.

"Well…I was wondering if you had plans for the holidays…you told me you hadn't any a week ago and I talked to my Gran and, well, she offered for you to come stay with us," Neville let out in a rush. "It's usually just me and her, and it'd be really great if you would come."

My face broke into a smile. "Wow, that'd be great, Neville. I was almost worried I'd have to spend my holidays here."

Neville kissed me quickly. "This is great! I'll owl Gran right now. See you in Herbology!"

He departed, leaving me to resume my walk to the library, with new ideas in mind.

Assuming his Gran doesn't watch us like a hawk, we could use this time to…explore. I almost smiled at the warm sensation filling my stomach again. Yes, I felt ready to go further, but I still needed to figure out exactly how much.

Or maybe I was thinking about this far too much? Perhaps this wasn't something you could plan like this? What if it was something better left to instincts? I felt a little nervous about that. I _never_ walked into a situation unprepared if I could help it.

I sat my bag down on the table and went to go retrieve the Potions book I had come for. Getting my essay out of my bag, I began to work.

"Hey, Hermione!"

I looked up and saw Ginny. She had a stack of books in her arms and let them fall down on the table with a loud _thud_. I grimaced at the sound.

"Ginny! That is _no_ way to treat books."

She smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry. They were heavy." She sat down across from me, but didn't make any immediate moves to open her books.

After a moment of silence, she said almost conspiratorially, "So…how are you and Neville?"

I looked up at her abruptly. "What do you mean? We're…fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Just getting in the swing of things. He's very helpful to have as a study partner, actually. His wand work is really great."

Ginny giggled. "Is it?"

I blushed, realizing the reference I had accidentally made. "Not like that!"

"How sad. So you _don't _know how his wand work is?"

I blushed, again. "Ginny! We've only just started dating!"

"Hmph. So? You're 18 years old, Hermione. It's high time you start figuring out how to please a man." Ginny leaned in and lowered her voice. "Do you have any clue _how _to do that?"

I felt very flustered indeed. "I…well…" I suddenly had an idea. Maybe Ginny was the one that could help me after all. "I don't."

She looked triumphant and sat back up.

"Maybe you could give me some pointers?" I said, swallowing my pride.

"I could. First I want the details. Where have you two been sneaking off to when you think nobody else is around?"

"Were we that obvious? Fine. We go to an abandoned classroom. We just snog a lot, mostly." I felt traumatized to be telling this to her.

Ginny looked delighted at this information. I struggled not to roll my eyes.

"How is it?"

"What do you mean? It's nice."

"_Nice_? That's it? It's not hot or steamy or passionate? It's _nice_? My grandmother is _nice_. Snogging my boyfriend is _hot_."

"Okay! Fine! It's hot! It's passionate! And he makes these noises that make me feel so…I don't know. Like I want to find out what's in his trousers."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. I had no words for how embarrassed I felt at saying that out loud.

Ginny smiled, once again victorious.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated. Let me know how I'm doing ;)_


	21. Drinks by the Fireside

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thank you to **Chris**, **TriwizardChampion97**,** Leah2201**, **hotstuff11**, **makaem**, **elh4587**, **eri**, **Guest**, and **OfLoveAndChocolate**. Your reviews are very appreciated.

Reply to **eri**: I understand your concern that I made Draco appear too dim minded. However, very often in the books Draco is portrayed this way. He's mostly all talk - unless he's being blackmailed. I think Draco is the kind of person that has been raised to fit into certain standards, much like Neville has, and as a result he feels as if he must act upon these standards to keep people placated. Also, this story is mostly told from Hermione's point of view, so everything she says about Draco is her perception, whether it's true or not. How many times have you thought something about someone that turned out to be very misguided or completely the opposite of the truth? Thank you for your review very much, and I hope I explained myself properly. :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One - _Drinks by the Fireside_**

* * *

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Granger and that bloody boy.

I sat back in my chair, swirling the firewhiskey in my glass lazily. The fire was crackling merrily, but the air held a crisp chill. I liked it that way. It was so unlike Spinner's End, the house I grew up in. Hogwarts felt more like my home than anywhere else I had ever frequented.

My mood had been very sour as of late. Ever since that day Granger walked into the Hall holding hands with Longbottom, it has been hard to get rid of the image. I kept telling myself how inappropriate it is, but the rational side of my mind doesn't seem to care. And on top of it all, I had that blasted dream almost every single night.

I had been trying to decide if the dream is just that – a dream. However, something about this dream continued to make me feel uneasy. It was almost like I was watching a memory, but I knew it wasn't mine. The man in the dream, John – for some reason I almost felt like I was looking at myself twenty years ago, with slight differences. John was shorter than me, and his nose wasn't quite as pronounced. I bit my tongue in frustration. What was I thinking?

I believe I was losing my damned mind.

But the girl…

She looked like Granger. Even in Elizabethan clothing, it was Granger, through and through. I've had the dream enough times now to know for certain. Her face, her voice, her eyes. It was haunting me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in effort to cast those thoughts away. How ridiculous! I was acting like an infatuated student. It was bad enough I lost all my control and actually _kissed_ her. And then out of haste and fear, I Obliviated her. I prayed she wouldn't figure it out, although I couldn't really rely on it not happening.

And then there was Albus – meddling old fool. He really couldn't keep his damned mouth shut. "_Hermione needs adults she can trust._" I couldn't be trusted alone with Granger. But what did it even matter? She was only a pawn in his grand game of chess. He wanted her here as a teacher so he can have her on reserve. Granger was young, naive, and impulsive. But she was intelligent and a fast learner and we didn't have enough people like that in the Order.

Not that the Order wasn't full of capable wizards and witches. I have been on both sides of the line between Dark and Light, and as far as talent goes, we were sorely outnumbered. Too many people were afraid to join our ranks. The Dark Lord was infiltrating the Wizarding world through fear and well-placed soldiers. If we weren't careful, we would lose, and most of us would die, or cross to the other side.

So, we would die. I would rather die than live in a world ruled by The Dark Lord.

I stood up and threw my glass into the fire, the sound and sudden burst of heat rather satisfying indeed.

* * *

The next few days passed as expected. Christmas break was just around the corner and most of the dunderheads were growing antsy. I took enough points to sour most of their moods, so at least when I was in my classroom I didn't have to hear about it. When I was teaching the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seventh years, it was something of a struggle for me to look at Granger. She was always next to Longbottom, and for some reason, this made me feel sick.

Weasley still sat in the back, looking as if he wasn't sleeping or eating much. His awful hair stood out like a flame in the night because his skin was so pasty. His second-hand robes were hanging off of him, so I figured he'd lost at least half a stone or more. I would have to speak to Minerva.

At dinner the next night, Minerva and Sprout were discussing their plans for the holidays. As I couldn't deduct points from them, I stabbed my roast beef angrily and slammed it into my mouth, not even tasting it.

"I presume you're staying here for the holidays, Severus?" I heard Minerva ask.

"Spinner's End is hardly a vacation spot." I looked around the Great Hall, and my eyes found their way on Granger. She had her arm around Longbottom, and he was leaned in close to her, seemingly whispering in her ear. No decency whatsoever.

I felt it, inside. The anger. I wanted to snatch that blasted boy and throw him.

"I've been telling you this for years, all it needs is some Transfiguration and that house would be lovely," Minerva said primly. I broke my gaze on Granger and settled on Minerva.

"I'm not having this conversation again," I replied impatiently. "I was meaning to tell you – perhaps you should pay more attention to your Gryffindor, Ron Weasley. He doesn't look in good health."

Minerva scanned the Hall.

"Why, he's not even here."

"Very astute, Minerva. _Your _student often misses meals. I spoke to Winky and she leaves him food every night, but it's obviously not enough. I won't have a Weasley dying on my watch; Molly would tear down the castle walls."

Minerva knitted her brow and had the decency to look ashamed.

"I can't believe I didn't notice. We've just had so much going on preparing the children for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, plus the extra projects outside of class…"

I inclined my head sharply at her.

"…but enough of that, I'll be sure to have a sit-down with Mr. Weasley and perhaps I'll be able to get him to eat more than his share of biscuits."

I snorted. "You do that."

There was silence for a moment, I once again began stabbing my food and eating it as fast as I could. It was too tempting to look at the Gryffindor table and watch her.

"Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger seem to be getting on very well," Minerva commented.

My blood froze, but I put on a bored expression.

"Indeed."

"I hear she will be staying with him and Augusta during break."

It took most of my effort not to show disgust at this.

"Your point?"

"The Longbottoms would be a very good family to be on her side." Minerva looked at me pointedly.

I had never considered this. There was much I would say if we were in private, but we had to be careful here. As much as I disliked seeing them together, Minerva was right. The Longbottoms were Purebloods, therefore as safe as one would expect in times like these. The Dark Lord hated killing Purebloods unless he truly felt he had to, which could range from a terrible transgression to breathing the wrong way, depending on his mood. But, still…it was highly unlikely Death Eaters would go knocking on their door. Augusta was far too old, and I couldn't see what they would want in the boy. He wasn't especially talented, although Sprout often raves about his skill in Herbology. The Dark Lord has no interest in plants.

I grit my teeth together. He's so _ordinary_. What does Granger even see in him?

Dangerous thoughts. I didn't have any business thinking them.

"I expect Miss Granger will be in good hands this holiday," I finally said, although it came out as a hiss. I felt the anger rise again because I had a good idea of just whose hands I was talking about.

Minerva thankfully didn't say anymore. It was too dangerous to continue this conversation, anyway. I finished my meal without another word, and swept out of the Hall.

When I walked passed Granger, she looked at me, and I couldn't tell what I saw in her eyes.

I felt it, though. In my heart, a pain. I couldn't even sneer at her, because the feeling was so overwhelming.

* * *

Once in my quarters, I lit my fire with a wave of my wand. I threw my teaching robes on the floor and kicked my boots off. I settled down in my favorite armchair with a glass of firewhiskey. I wasn't really a drinker, but this year I'd taken up the habit.

After unbuttoning the high collar of my crisp white shirt, I took a drink, relishing the burn. Nothing felt quite as good as sitting in my quarters after a long day dealing with snot-nosed brats. Here, nobody could bother me. Here, I could lower my defenses, if only a little, and enjoy the silence.

But this night I couldn't rid my thoughts of Granger. I frowned in distaste. So, she was spending the holiday with Longbottom. How precious. I had a fair idea how they'd be celebrating Christmas.

A perverse part of my mind wondered what they'd done together. They were far too intimate in public to be reading books behind closed doors. I took another sip of my drink. I couldn't stop my mind from imagining the two together, although thankfully my imagination wasn't good enough to get many details. It was disgusting, anyway. Imagining two students naked together was almost as bad as kissing one.

I felt my groin tighten. Another drink, to clear my mind. It was more like a gulp, and I poured myself some more. After contemplating, I drew the amber liquid in all at once and felt my face grow very hot. I stood up and decided to change.

After unbuttoning my shirt, I threw it on the floor, and did the same with my trousers. I almost groaned in relief as the growing part of me was freed from the constricting fabric. A pair of black pajama pants floated over to me with a lazy flick of my wand. After slipping them on, I decided I was cooler, and I wanted another drink.

I sat back down, full drink in hand, listening to the crackling of the fireplace. Trying to get my physical state out of mind. It was really very nice to watch. The earthy smell of burning wood always comforted me.

Bloody hell. I was halfway done with my drink when my thoughts landed on Granger again. The look on her face tonight when she saw me was troubling. What if she had figured out…?

No. I couldn't even consider that an option. Not right now, anyway. Thinking about Obliviating her made me think about kissing her, and I felt my arousal grow stronger. I downed the rest of my drink and set it down on the floor next to my chair, trying to calm myself down. The rational part of me knew this was wrong, but the rest of me wasn't quite sober anymore and didn't seem to care.

I couldn't deny myself, not tonight. It had been too long, and it would only get worse each day I ignored it. I got up from my chair and walked into the bathroom, intending to draw a warm bath and with Granger's kiss in mind.

* * *

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	22. Options

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**AN:** Thank you to **Guest**, **Chris**, **makaem**, and **MCannon5887** for your reviews. And thanks to everyone else who favorited and/or followed me and/or this story. Your support is very appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two - _Options_**

* * *

I was once again summoned by Dumbledore, under the pretense of tea.

I had been startled awake again by another one of those strange dreams – the one with the boy that reminded me of Neville, the boy named Matthew. He and the girl, Joan, were talking a walk, arm in arm, on a blisteringly cold day. I could almost feel the wind stinging my skin, but I wasn't _in_ the dream, no. I was only an onlooker, somewhere above, and they weren't aware of me.

It was a sort of strange scene to watch. Joan's face was flushed and Matthew looked uncertain. The man I recognized as Matthew's father was following them some feet behind, a slow pace, as if a chaperone to their jaunt. Matthew and Joan were talking about the weather, and their potential betrothal. I _knew_ it was a dream, but everything just seemed so_ real_. Like a real moment in time, long preserved and presenting itself some four hundred years later.

"In truth, I'm afraid," Joan had said.

"As am I. But I have faith," was Matthew's reply, and then he smiled rather gallantly.

After I awoke, I had a fair time teasing myself back to reality.

When I have these dreams, I very carefully write down every detail I can remember. Sometimes I have the same dream more than once. Sometimes it skips ahead, or behind, but what I have written down could be arranged to read like a story.

Perhaps my mind was telling me to take up novel writing.

So, that morning I was writing down my dream, even down to the detail of how the garden smelled, when that same owl from before dropped in through that window that had found itself open (was it broken?), and held out its leg, as impatient as before. The note was summoning me to tea, after dinner. My heart quickened at the note. I wondered if the meeting would answer my questions about Harry.

It was the last day of class, and Neville and I walked silently to Charms. After we stepped out of the Great Hall, he took my arm and I blushed at the old fashioned nature of the gesture, but not before I thought of how strikingly similar it seemed to my dream. I glanced at him and immediately felt that sense of relief that was becoming something of a regularity; his content expression was that powerful. I sighed and squeezed his arm a little tighter, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine, and that very _risqué_ conversation with Ginny. I willed myself to not be embarrassed. This was what I wanted, and there's no point in feeling abashed at that. At least, that's what Ginny said.

Right before we reached the classroom, I noted we had fifteen minutes. With a pointed smile, I pulled Neville to the side, into an alcove. He was looking at me questioningly, as if wondering what I was about; I silenced that look by standing on tiptoes and kissing him, hands on the back of his neck to press him down to me, closer.

He tried to stifle the soft moan that followed, but its proximity made it a very hard sound to ignore.

* * *

The portraits in Dumbledore's office were all sitting up in their chairs, as if they knew something important was about to happen. I was sipping my tea, once more settled next to Professor McGonagall. Snape was across from me, but he was again refusing to look in my direction. He had declined tea and was staring blankly into the fire.

Dumbledore made quite a show of doctoring his tea and selecting a biscuit, a chocolate one. He was nibbling delicately and had an interesting look on his face, as if he were delighted to be having tea but feeling apprehensive. _Did_ Dumbledore ever feel an emotion as frivolous as apprehension?

"Let's get to the point, I grow tired of sitting here," Snape snapped suddenly.

"Oh! Well, then." Dumbledore finished his biscuit and finished his tea, eyes twinkling. Snape looked murderous and I had to disguise a laugh as a too-loud cough.

"Dear girl, are you alright?" McGonagall asked me, startled over the rim of her teacup.

"Oh yes – sudden tickle in my throat," I replied, red-faced. I looked at Dumbledore and folded my hands in my lap as if to say, _I'm a good girl and I'm listening_.

After a moment Dumbledore said, "I hear you're staying with the Longbottoms for the holidays."

I was a little surprised at this topic. "Y-yes, I mean…yes. That is, Neville invited me and I accepted."

Dumbledore smiled a little. "It's a good place for you to be. The Longbottoms are a safe family, and no doubt you'll be in good hands."

I saw a shift in my vision – Snape had moved a little in his seat, and I vividly remembered the acid in his voice when he said, _"I wouldn't want you to miss out on saying goodnight to Longbottom." _I tilted my head curiously at his movement.

"Yes, I suppose I will be," I replied uncertainly. I was flicking my eyes between Snape and Dumbledore; the two contrasted so strongly they could be compared to night and day. Snape had a disapproving look on his face, but no, it was gone the moment I saw it. Dumbledore was beaming, unaware of my internal struggle to understand the play going on between the two adults.

It was Professor McGonagall who spoke next. "We strongly support the alliance between you and the Longbottoms. They would be a very good family to have on your side, Miss Granger."

I felt color creep into my face at the notion of _alliance_. The word seemed to bear a harder weight than _boyfriend and girlfriend_.

"A-alliance?" I stammered.

"You're still young, but in times like these, you might want to consider your options. Mr. Longbottom and his family have many resources to provide to ensure your safety after Hogwarts," she said very matter-of-factly indeed. I stared at her, knowing it was rude, but rather floored at the idea of _marriage_ and _Neville_ and my teachers telling me they wanted me to _consider it an option_.

Snape made an impatient noise with his tongue. "This is rather ridiculous. Miss Granger isn't even out of school yet."

McGonagall looked affronted. She gave him a look that said very plainly _you're in trouble later_. "Why, Severus, I was betrothed when I was in sixth year. It's not unheard of, and you know that." There was a question in her voice, but whatever it was she wanted to _really_ say, she didn't. Instead, she looked back at me. "It's just something to consider, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor," I replied, because it seemed the proper thing to say.

"No doubt you're burning with questions about Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, an abrupt change of topic.

"Yes, I –" I stopped myself, because I almost told him that I went to Snape about it, but the look on Snape's face made me think that maybe I shouldn't. "I do," I said lamely, and no doubt my stutter seemed rather unnecessary.

"I'm afraid that I cannot divulge the whereabouts of Mr. Potter to you, not yet. I will clear your mind in telling you that he is safe, right now." The way he said _right now_ made me feel like Harry's safety was only temporary. "After you are graduated, and a full member of the Order, I can assure you you'll know our movements."

I couldn't help but feel angry at this. Why do I have to be a member of the Order to know what Harry's doing? They were not five minutes ago telling me to marry Neville, and then barely waited a breath to tell me I was _just not old enough_ to know where my best friend was.

So, I smiled. "Yes sir, I understand."

If they figured out that I was holding back the urge to scream, they didn't say anything.

"Have you considered our offer to teach next year?" McGonagall asked. Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked at me for the first time that evening.

I took a sip of my tea, which had gone cold by that point. "I have thought about it, and I don't really think I have many options other than to accept. I'll be in need of a job, and the Ministry doesn't exactly seem like the answer."

"No, Miss Granger. The Ministry would be the worst place for you to be, and it's hardly even an option," McGonagall replied. "I'm glad you see the necessity of accepting the job here."

I nodded, looking at Snape, who was looking at me, and I wondered what he was thinking. This was the man whom I believed to have Oblivated me, but there he sat, actively engaged in a conversation about my protection in the future. I would have doubted myself, if the signs weren't so difficult to ascribe to another form of reasoning.

"I just hope that things will be alright soon," I said, turning to look at the snow beating against the window.

"A child's comment," Snape said rigidly. I turned to look at him, embarrassed he thought that, but also ready to defend myself.

"I wouldn't say that, Severus," Dumbledore said. He sounded very old indeed. "It is nothing less than what every person in this room hopes for."

McGonagall was nodding, her mouth set in a hard line, and Dumbledore's hand moved; he was raising his glass.

"To peace," he said gravely. "And the hope that it's attained sooner, rather than later."

* * *

Aboard the Hogwarts express, I was reading over my notes from the last Charms lesson. In the compartment were Neville, Luna, and Dean, all of whom were engaged in conversation about what they were doing for their holiday. I didn't much feel like joining in. After the meeting in Dumbledore's office the night before, I couldn't sleep very well at all. McGonagall's voice kept finding its way into my head about _options_ and _alliances_. She meant _marriage_, but why the roundabout way of saying it? It felt rather archaic, like something out of a historic novel.

I closed my notes; I wouldn't be retaining anything in this compartment. The rapid succession of conversation around me made it impossible. I realized how close to me Neville was sitting – his right thigh was leaning against my left one – and I felt a hot surge of _desire_. If it weren't for Luna and Dean, I wouldn't be merely sitting here, that's something to be counted on. I turned my head to catch his scent: that spicy richness that had a tendency to cling to me long after we weren't touching anymore. _I could get drunk on that smell_, I thought heatedly.

"…We'll have to all meet up at Diagon Alley, I'm sure we'll be shopping in a few days," I heard Neville say, when I finally tuned into the conversation.

"I think that would be great fun," Luna replied, with that odd empyrean expression she often wore. Luna and I were never very close, that is to say, I always thought she was incredibly strange. And I couldn't hold a conversation with her without getting irritated, so a friendship with her would be next to impossible. But I always admired her courage to stay true to her beliefs no matter what people said, regardless how wrong I found them.

"I'll owl you," Dean said. Then he turned to me and smiled. "I see you've returned to the real world."

I made a dramatically irritated face. "I was studying!"

"Come off it, Hermione, it's the holidays," he teased.

"Alright, alright, I'm done!" I replied, hands up as a sign of truce.

Neville let out an appreciative chuckle, and when he looked at me his expression said nothing short of endearment. My heart ached at that, because I very suddenly realized that if I told Neville about McGonagall's suggestion, I had no doubt he would agree.

I felt tears burning in my throat, but I wouldn't let that happen here, no. And it wasn't a reason to cry, so what was wrong with me?

He suddenly grasped my hand, tight, and kissed my hair. I basked in the feeling; it was like sunshine after a week of rain.

"You'll like my house," Neville said. "It's old and the portraits have lots of stories to tell. Gran is excited to meet you; I've been telling her about you for years." His signature blush creeps on his face.

"I had no idea you were such a romantic, Longbottom," Dean cut in, a huge smirk on his face.

"Stuff it, Dean," Neville shot back.

Their banter wore on, and I caught Luna smiling at me serenely. I looked out the window, all ice and snow across the English countryside, a thick blanket of gray across the afternoon sky. As foreboding as it looked outside, I couldn't help but smile.

Neville's hand was in mine, and I was to have a very nice holiday indeed.

* * *

_You've read it, now review it! Let me know what you think. :)_


	23. Neville's House

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Duh!

**AN:** Thank you to **frog8590**, **Chris**, and **Fraulien Lovegood** for your reviews. Thanks for the favorites and/or follows, too.

The subtle description of the moors around Neville's house is borrowed from Vera Rozalsky's _Amends, or Truth and Reconciliation_ (see my favorites), but all other descriptions of the house are my own imagination.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three - _Neville's House_**

* * *

Neville's house was absolutely breathtaking.

The only true Wizarding house I had ever been to was the Burrow, which certainly had its own charm, yes. But Neville's house was so different by comparison that it really couldn't be _compared_. We arrived by floo and once we had stepped into his kitchen, I felt like I had stepped into another time. It was chilly and I pulled my coat closer to me, despite the fire in the hearth.

Neville wasn't lying when he said his house was _old_, but it was more like _ancient_ – there was nothing in his kitchen that wasn't less than fifty years old, not a piece of glassware or art, and I looked around with interest. He was standing next to me rather stiffly, and said that his Gran was at the Ministry and wouldn't be back until at least suppertime.

I asked him if we could see it from the outside, and he obliged. We walked out of the kitchen together, down a hallway lined with portraits that pointed at me and whispered. It was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it.

When Neville said that he lived in the _country_, what he really meant to say was he lived in absolute _seclusion_. His house was made of red brick and had vines growing on the walls, and across the doorframe and above the windows. It wasn't exactly a cottage, but it wasn't an imposing mansion, either. It looked as timeless as the countryside itself – I thought we were in Yorkshire, with the way the hills rolled beyond to the horizon, covered in snow, with shrubs and trees contrasting starkly against the bright whiteness.

"Do you like it?" Neville asked me, apprehensively.

"I _love_ it," I replied, and I tilted my head to kiss him, ignoring how the weather seemed to want us to go inside; the wind burned my cheeks and blew my hair in all sorts of directions.

"Are you hungry?" he asked when we parted.

I smiled. "Actually, I am."

We went inside to have what Neville called a snack, although it seemed more like a meal to me. Cucumber sandwiches, cookies, and sliced fruit were enjoyed and we ate in silence.

My mind began to wander toward the meeting in Dumbledore's office the night before. I looked over at Neville and wondered if I should tell him about McGonagall's words about _considering my options_.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, always paying attention.

"Nothing, I-" I stopped, not entirely sure what I was going to say. And then my mind raced toward another thought: what if marriage was what Neville was considering all along? This visit could be a sort of _meet the parents_ gesture, and I wouldn't know that because Neville surely came from a long line of witches and wizards and most likely they had their own way of doing things, wouldn't they? And I _wouldn't_ know, because I'm Muggleborn. This caused me to fall into a state of panic, because I was only just 18 and what if I wasn't ready for all of that? The people in this world seemed to marry young, but what if I wasn't ready?

"Woah – Hermione."

Neville's voice snapped into my conscious, and then I heard the blunt scrape of the chair across the floor. And then: a warm embrace, albeit an awkward one, because I was sitting and he was standing above me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You looked like you'd seen a ghost," Neville replied, but didn't push it. That's what I liked most about him, I think. He always let me take my time.

I stood up to hug him properly, and the feel of his body against mine distracted me from all other line of thought, which in turn caused a particular part of _my _body to be distracted.

But it wasn't the time.

"How about a tour?" I asked, and he nodded. He took my hand and led me out of the kitchen.

He showed me the dining room, which he said was rarely used; the sitting room, where he said he and his Gran would spend time together; the room I would be sleeping in, the loo. Every piece of his house had history – every time I asked a question about a particular piece of furniture or art, he had a story to tell. He was obviously very fond of his house and it showed in the way he spoke. This was the house he grew up in, and he had known nothing else.

The last room of the tour, and Neville stopped. It is obvious he was hesitating because it was _his_ room. I smiled and opened the door.

Neville's room had much the same layout as the guest room I would be sleeping in; the big bed, the wardrobe, the chair by the window. Except his room showed more signs of life: random piles of books, even a set of school robes folded neatly at the foot of his bed. I don't know what I was expecting; perhaps a lot of plants, or a mess. But it wouldn't do to leave a bunch of plants to fend for themselves while he went to school, I supposed.

My eyes landed on a picture on his nightstand, and I walked over to it and picked it up.

"My parents," Neville said quietly.

The man and woman in the picture were very young, and full of life. They looked happy, and were standing in front of the house, his mother beaming and holding a baby, presumably Neville, and his father had an arm around her.

"From before," Neville said, and took the picture from me to look at it himself. He had a strange distant expression on his face, and he set it carefully down on the nightstand.

"That time, when you asked me if I ever wished I could be someone else, I wasn't really thinking. I was more surprised that you asked me that at all and I said Harry without even using my head. If I had the choice, I'd want to be a normal kid, with parents who loved me."

I looked at him, but couldn't trust myself to speak.

"Gran will be expecting me to visit St. Mungo's, but if you would rather not…"

I found my voice. "No, Neville, I would be honored to go."

Neville nodded, and then shrugged.

"Well, that's the end of the tour, then."

Unspoken _implication_. I was suddenly very aware of the stillness of the house; we were completely alone and would be for another couple of hours. I sat on his bed and gestured for him to join me.

He only hesitated for a moment and then sat down. I leaned over to kiss him softly, much like the very first kiss we ever had in the Gryffindor Common Room. I could tell he was nervous; this was the first time we had ever been alone like this, without teachers or other students or curfews to worry about. I pulled back and saw him looking at me, searching my face as if trying to figure out my mood.

"We're alone," I said, rather unnecessarily given the circumstances, but I wanted to say it out loud.

He didn't reply, but he kept watching me, pupils dilated. Deciding to be brave, I moved over and got in his lap so I was facing him. And then I kissed him again, no longer soft or chaste, no – I wanted this to go further than that. The time for innocence is gone, and we could never get the opportunity again.

His hands were on my upper arms, right where the muscle met bone, a soft grip. I kissed him and moved down his neck, and then up again, he tilted his head like a cat to receive the touch.

I pushed him backward so he was lying on the bed. He looked at me in surprise, but once I lay down on top of him with my leg right _there_, that look changed entirely.

"Ah-" came Neville's voice, a soft sound between a cry and a moan that he tried to stifle but couldn't; for whatever he was feeling was too overwhelming to silence entirely. I kissed him again and this time he had his hands in my hair, thoroughly tangling it even more than it already was.

Ginny had said that _that part_ was sensitive and reacted to all sorts of touch. But now that I had a living and breathing Neville beneath me, it seemed almost ridiculous to consider doing any of the things she described to him. The image of Neville I had in my mind, though, contrasted sharply to what was actually there now. He was breathing like he had no control over his lungs, his hands were travelling down my back and up again and _yes_, he pushed me down on him and moaned again.

I pulled back and saw his face; it was absolutely nothing less than _desire_. His eyes were closed and his mouth was parted slightly. I took a finger and slowly dragged it over his lips, I watched his mouth close and then open again, his chin tilted up, and I could feel his breath on my fingertip.

All of this was so _arousing_ but our height difference made it impossible for me to push my hips into his body and get any real friction. I sat up and settled myself down right at the tops of his thighs, and ran my hands down his shirt and stopped right at the waistband of his corduroys.

"Can I…" I said, feeling his warm skin right before the fabric of his pants started.

"Yes. Please. Anything."

So, I began to unbutton his pants, and I started to feel very nervous as I did so. Neville reached up to help me pull his pants down, and when he was finally free of the fabric, I had the sudden instinct to look away.

There was an awkward silence. Neville wasn't quite looking at me; I saw a blush creep over his face as if he expected me to be disgusted and walk away, or maybe even laugh at him, I don't know.

"Show me what to do," I said. "I've…never done this before."

He looked at me and grinned a little.

"Me neither."

And so, he took my hand and put it on him, which was very warm and surprisingly soft to the touch; it was such an interesting sensation I giggled and he faltered a little.

"No, it's just…I didn't know what to expect," I said quickly. "Please, show me."

Neville guided me at first, but after a moment his hand dropped to his side and started gripping the sheets. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing but his reactions were enough. His hips were jerking and his breath was ragged; it was enough to send my mind into a state of thought that wasn't even cognitive anymore. I couldn't help but start to wonder what it would feel like for him to be inside of me and this thought caused me to jerk my hips too, although it was frustrating because there was nothing to push onto because I was still sitting on his thighs.

And suddenly, I heard his breath change, and saw his body shutter. The sounds coming out of his mouth were coming out in such quick succession, the next sound seemed to come out before the previous one was even done, and I felt him try to arch his hips regardless of all my weight resting on him.

What happened next was a little awkward for both of us, but I didn't move and watched Neville regain normal control over his breathing and he opened his eyes and looked at me with a cute little smile on his face, blush and all.

He pulled his wand out from his sleeve and Vanished the mess, and I got off of him so he could pull his pants back on.

"I'm sorry," he said, lying back down. "There's _that_ to deal with."

"It's not _your_ fault," I replied, grinning despite myself. "Did you like it?"

Neville laughed. "That was incredible." He turned his head to look at me. "Now it's your turn."

My breath hitched in my throat; I wasn't really expecting that. He usually isn't so bold and I lay down on a pillow, unsure what to expect. He pulled himself over so he was next to me.

"I don't know what to do either," he said, a tentative hand resting on my belly.

I leaned over to kiss him, running a hand through his thick hair. Neville sighed into the kiss; maybe he was holding a breath all this time. I pulled back and bit his ear for good measure. He startled, and then we both giggled.

"Don't be nervous," I breathed, even though I myself was still nervous – I had never had a boy touch me _there_. I lifted my back to unzip my skirt and slid it down, kicking it off. Neville fingered the band of my knickers, cautiously, and I realized that it would probably be easier if I took them off, but I wasn't sure I was ready to.

"I can't help it," he said. "I've never done this before, either."

"Here," I said, and took his hand and guided it under my knickers until he was _there_. I couldn't breathe; I could only concentrate on the pressure, and decided to abandon it all and pulled my knickers down to my ankles.

Now it was _my_ turn to be embarrassed. I understood why Neville didn't look at me at the initial reveal; there was something so vulnerable about it. I finally met his eyes and put my hand over his to show him what to do. After a moment, I let go and let him take control.

"Oh -"

The sound had escaped my lips before I could even control it; having someone else do this to me was _incredible_. He was a little awkward at first, but he seemed to be figuring what to do by my reactions.

It didn't take very long, no, not at all, before I was pushed over the edge. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from yelling out; it was such an intense feeling and I was only vaguely aware of my hips arching higher and higher, although I didn't think to be embarrassed because I couldn't think about anything else but the _pleasure_.

I lay still for a moment, unsure what to do. I sighed, a content sound, and turned my head to smile at Neville who was watching me silently, but I saw he was grinning, so I grinned too.

"That was…great," I said, a little breathlessly.

"Really?" he asked, perking up at the compliment.

I went to retrieve my clothing and made myself decent. I felt a little awkward to be so exposed after the excitement had gone down.

"Yes. We'll have to try that again sometime," I said. I looked at him again, almost in a new light: this had completely changed my perception of Neville, but only just, for when I saw the way he was laying against his pillow, his face soft and a strange look of wonder there, I saw the boy I knew all along.

Neville got out of bed and stood up, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fancy a game of chess? Gran won't be back for another hour at least."

I nodded, and he took my hand, and we made our way down into the sitting room. He retrieved a very old set of chess, but I couldn't help but notice it was Muggle made and not Wizarding. It was all made of silver and gold, with four legs like a table made of intricately designed golden rearing horses; the pieces were just as ornate and very heavy to the touch.

"This is _beautiful_," I breathed. "And Muggle too?"

"It's been in the family for generations," Neville replied. "It's probably one of my favorite things in the house. It was my dad's, and now it's mine."

And without a further word, we began to play.

* * *

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